


Vantage

by ryuuseirune



Series: Visible [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone Is Gay, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22699687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuuseirune/pseuds/ryuuseirune
Summary: Victor always looked at Hop from afar.or,Five years pass and Victor hasn't spoken a single word to Hop. A phone call later, Victor finds himself wrapped up in the arms of love. Hop's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and Victor is afraid everything will go wrong if he's even a little bit self-indulgent.
Relationships: Hop/Masaru | Victor, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Visible [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1644436
Comments: 16
Kudos: 217





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd  
> first work i've published in a while. i don't expect anyone to read this, but if you do, please let me know your thoughts on it!
> 
> basically, victor looks at hop out of a tree and has gay feelings. also, being champion sounds like it sucks.
> 
> background relationships:  
> marnie/gloria, leon/raihan, past hop/bede

It was over, just as it began. Victor and Hop’s efforts to put an end to the Darkest Day painted them as heroes in the eyes of the public. The champion fell soon after, marking the rise of a new battle empire – led by Victor himself. Elation flooded Victor as soon as he saw Leon’s Charizard faint, expressing itself as a wave of warmth racking through his body, pumping through his veins, and making his heart pound. Victor, in his emotional high, fueled by crowds and congratulations, could finally feel the comforting sense of relief washing over him.

The next few days were numbing, but rather than the stress and anguish that Victor felt fighting Macro Cosmos, his aloof disposition was caused by disbelief. Victor trained endlessly to beat Leon, but it still felt…surreal. Many times before, Victor’s gnawing anxiety kept him up at night training his team. He held many memories of defeating wild Pokemon and fighting every trainer who passed his campsite. He was pretty sure that he wiped out at least a dozen different populations of wild Pokemon in hopes of gaining immense strength. And he’d achieved strength, demonstrated it, especially in his battle against Leon, sweeping the former champion’s team without losing a single one of his own.

After the celebrations, he returned to Postwick, to his mother, and to where it all began. In his hazy state, he wandered through the Slumbering Weald, following the path carved into his soul. In the forest’s heart, Hop stood where the two took the rusted sword and shield. With a gleaming grin, Hop turned to face Victor. Clearly, Hop heard the crunching of dead leaves under Victor’s sneakers, the ones they bought together at Motostoke after defeating Kabu. Victor noted Hop was still wearing his pair from their shopping spree back then. Worn, but well cleaned, the sneakers seemed to tip-toe their way through Victor’s mind, opening his heart to the memories he shared with his childhood friend. Tearing his eyes away from the memento, Victor’s heart rammed into his chest – just like it had during his battle with Leon, anxious and overwhelmingly loud. “Guilt,” Victor thought, “for crushing his dreams.”

Victor's eyes were too fixated on Hop’s expression to properly respond to any of his statements. The two friends hadn’t been apart long, but to Victor, it felt like ages. It was clear Hop saw his discomfort. He suggested a friendly match, for old time's sake, and Victor, distracted by the completely unnecessary drumbeat in his chest, barely won. And Hop thanked Victor for winning. For shoving everything his future could be into a hole and burying it. Hop smiled at him.

Victor couldn’t help but notice that the grin didn't reach his eyes.

* * *

If Victor had known what championship had entailed, he would never have accepted the role. Expecting a teenager (almost adult) to do paperwork and sign League Cards and be hailed by an entire country as a savior as some sort was entirely foreign to him, to any normal kid, and yet the transfer was a routine process; it was normal. There were no bounds to the workload for this position, but at the very least, Victor was grateful that the job made him quite a bit of money.

Even outside his normal Champion duties – going around and meeting gym leaders, paperwork, and beating the two suspicious royal brothers into the ground – he was expected to treat people properly. As in, people treated him like a walking tourist attraction. Victor had absolutely no private moments. At the cafe in Hammerlocke, the paparazzi crowded around the windows, as if he was something to be gawked at. Drained, Victor only wanted a battle and a drink after cleaning up what was left of the stadium, yet he couldn't seem to escape the endless publicity.

"That's why most of my moments are spent out of the public eye," Leon laughed when Victor asked about privacy on a visit to Wyndon's new Battle Tower. Victor raised an eyebrow as Leon recalled his Pokemon and the elevator began its descent. "You get used to it."

Imagining this as his future life was out of the question for Victor, but he nodded anyway. He strived for battle and challenge, not people and fanfare. If he closed his eyes, he could still remember his inspirations. When he saw Leon on television for the first time, as Hop delightfully explained his brother's position, he was thrilled by the idea of a journey filled with battle. But the Champion had no journey to go on. Not without new challengers to battle. Not without rivals to face. Not without Hop being there every step of his journey to guide him. Victor felt his heart speed up, as if it was saying, “you don’t need to ruin his life further than you already have.”

Victor silently accepted its judgement.

\--

One last time. One last battle. Hop and Zamazenta, Victor and Zacian. Hop's eyes glistened when Zamazenta asked to join him, and Victor's did too, watching from afar. Hop caught the legendary wolf with a practiced throw, one Victor’s eyes are trained to recognize. As Hop turned around, Victor shifted his feet into a battle stance. Victor knew Hop’s next question, and he would oblige any request from an old friend. Trainer against trainer: a battle where only one can emerge victorious.

They sent out their reliable partners, one by one, until each had one Pokemon left, the two legendaries. The two wolves dueled as if their lives depended on it, but Zamazenta fell first, likely tired from its overexertion earlier that day. And Victor’s exhilarated. Tired, but exhilarated. A breeze blew through the clearing, and Victor realized how gross he felt. Hop, too, was affected by the heat, beads of sweat forming on his neck. Victor cursed himself for noticing it, now feeling double-disgusted for staring at Hop’s neck and also being a sweaty mess. He heard his own heartbeat loud and clear, probably loud enough for Hop to hear too.

“That battle was amazing,” Hop murmured, just loud enough for Victor to hear. He nodded in agreement, hoping his lack of words would be attributed to exhaustion. Hop stretched his arms upward, high above his head, and Victor forced himself to stare elsewhere, not at his friend.

“... Let’s fight again, sometime,” Victor managed to get out, voice slightly raspy from getting too into giving his Zacian commands.

Hop laughed, as if he knew something Victor didn’t. Victor’s gaze recalibrated itself onto Hop’s gentle features, which looked almost the same as they did on the day the two met. Hop’s jaw was a bit sharper, and his eyes were too mature for their age – only 16. Even Hop’s signature laugh remained the same.

And that’s when Victor learned how much he appreciated Hop’s laugh, joyous enough to fill the space between the two of them.

Of course, it faded out, as things do over time, but Hop was always talking about something to compensate for Victor’s perpetual awkwardness. Victor closed his eyes for a bit and thought, “Maybe I can come to terms with being Champion if all battles are just like this.”

“Oh, by the way, I’ve decided to become Professor Sonia’s assistant!” Hop exclaimed, eyes twinkling.  
Wait, what?

* * *

Five years passed much slower than Victor wanted them to, and now he was 21, able to enjoy the joys of “vodka in the early morning” as described by Gloria in reference to one of her girlfriend’s brother’s weird habits. Gloria, despite her initial plans to take on the gym challenge, decided she would be better off staying in Spikemuth when she met Marnie. Victor didn’t mind, because that meant less time for his older, stronger sister to pick a fight with him in the name of Team Yell whenever he visited their mother in Postwick.

In the past, he returned home only to see his mother. With the money earned from his new position, they added a second floor to their house. If Victor or Gloria chose to visit, his mother explained, they would have a bit more privacy. But even when he returned to his childhood house, a definite upgrade from Wyndon Stadium office rooms, it didn’t feel like home. Instead, he slipped away, letting his feet take him into the Slumbering Weald. After a nap in a tree, he would always wake up to the company of local Skwovets and Rookidee sleeping near him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he would jolt awake to a louder noise, caused by a human perpetrator. A crunch of wet grass, loud footsteps, or even sometimes Hop’s own voice, talking to no one in particular – it was only ever Hop, and Victor loved it.

“It’s not stalking if you didn’t know they would be there,” Victor thought to himself. Spotting Hop became such a common occurrence, however, that Victor grew accustomed to the times when he saw a glimpse of indigo hair from the canopy above. Once, as he peered through the leaves – which seemed to part only to show Hop's figure, as if he were a faerie – Victor saw the boy in all of his terrible perfection, in his unbearable concentration, clutching his clipboard, staring at something Victor couldn't see. Hop's face was contorted in deep thought as he clicked his pen. Victor wished desperately to tear his gaze away, heart filled with guilt, and terror, and confusion, but he missed Hop dearly, and he couldn’t bear to even blink when the boy was so close – his chest ached.

At that moment, he yearned to rekindle their friendship. Although their bond dissipated after a few visits to Sonia's research center during Hop’s apprenticeship, they weren’t ever on bad terms. Whenever Victor visited, Hop disappeared from the lab in the name of field research. At the time, Victor assumed it was just because Hop needed space, but even after leaving his friend to his own devices and returning after a few months of separation, Hop always seemed to avoid him. But with Hop's silhouette shrinking into the distant sunset, Victor's longing only grew larger.

“I wish he were with me right now,” Victor thought, to no one in particular. They hadn’t even had a proper conversation for years, and yet, Victor missed Hop. He felt foolish for the emptiness in his heart. Hop’s presence – whether he liked it or not – played a huge part in Victor’s childhood, in Victor’s life, one of the only constants outside of Cinderace and his mother. And now with the Hop-shaped hole in his chest, he was lonely.

From the window of his temporary room in the west wing of Hotel Ionia, Victor watched the snow as it fell to the ground. Initially, the glass fogged up on the inside, but he wiped it off with the sleeve of his sweater, observing the blanket of white that adorned the empty landscape. In the plaza below, there were only a few people standing in the cold. He counted three: two food vendors and a man waiting off to the side, jotting things down in a notebook. The man had the hood of his blue parka up, and kept glancing around suspiciously. Victor squinted, putting his face right up to the glass.

The man sneezed suddenly, knocking off his hood and revealing a familiar shade of purple hair. Victor tried to scoot as close to the window as he could, trying to see if it really was Hop. What was he doing in Circhester? Why now, when Victor was thinking of him? Hop’s unique hair and golden eyes were a trait shared by few others, and Leon always wore his hair long. And if anything, Leon was probably still in the Battle Tower, trying to organize things. It had to be Hop – there was no one else who had that obscene haircut.

Hop’s gaze darted back and forth between his feet and a few separate areas in the plaza. With a closer look, Victor could see small white blobs in the snow, barely noticeable at first glance. The blobs – most likely Snom – seemed to be making their way toward Hop, much to the boy’s dismay. With one Snom already at his feet and crawling onto his shoe, Hop appeared more frustrated than anything else. He sighed in the Snom’s direction, gestured toward his notebook incredulously, and picked up the creature with one hand, facing it away from him. The Snom appeared as if it was leaving for a second, but turned around and started inching its way toward Hop again.

Victor giggled. Hop was clearly flustered by the sheer amount of Snom attracted to him, and it was almost a cute scene. Many Snom circled Hop, clearly wanting to play with him or be petted. Hop eventually gave in and stuffed his notes into his bag, instead pulling out Oran Berries and a rubber ball. For hours, Victor sat with his nose shoved against the glass, intrigued as Hop indulged the Snom in their desire to be coddled. When a Snom wriggled into Hop’s arms for a gentle hug and a kiss on its forehead, Hop’s smile seemed to glow brighter than it had before. Victor sighed. “I wish I was that Snom right now,” he mumbled to no one in particular.

He reeled backwards, tipping over the chair he sat on and falling to the floor with a loud thud. Victor’s heart screamed in his chest, and his vision blurred. In his panic, Victor scrambled to stand up, almost stumbling over his own legs again, and half-walked, half-crawled into his bed. Kissed? By Hop? Victor did not want Hop’s mouth anywhere near his face, and his mind was merely making a fool of him. It was out of the question: Victor did not want to kiss his childhood friend, who he hadn’t seen in the past five years, who he had not pined for in the slightest, and who definitely did not look so gentle and soft while caring for those Snom on the street. His heart surged in his chest. Oh god, Victor wanted to kiss Hop.

Victor squeezed his eyes shut, but the mental image of Hop’s eyes staring back at him only made him feel even more sick to his stomach. Hop probably didn’t even think about Victor anymore. His abdomen felt as if he was being punched from the inside out, and Victor rolled onto his left side, clutching his sides. He was, unfortunately, in love.

* * *

Before, Victor was too hesitant to ask, but he was itching to know why Hop always seemed to be away. Over time, Victor slowly built up enough courage to speak, even though his stomach churned every time he even thought about Hop. Victor steeled himself and inquired, “Leon, is Hop avoiding me?”

Leon sighed, shaking his head. “Definitely not. Hop actually thought you were the one avoiding him. I told him otherwise, but he didn’t seem to believe me.”  
Victor’s eyebrows furrowed as he thought about Leon’s statement. He’d never so much as even thought about leaving Hop. “What do you mean? Why would he think such a thing?”

“I tried to tell him it was a misunderstanding, but clearly, things haven’t been working out,” Leon explained, “Whenever he heard you were going back to Postwick, he waited for you at your house. And, when you never showed up, Hop just assumed that you were avoiding him.”

Victor blinked. Victor had gone to the place he thought Hop would be. He hadn’t realized that Hop, too, was waiting for him at the place Hop expected Victor to visit. With a little more conversational prodding, Leon revealed that “field research” really meant “sit by Victor’s house until he comes back, so I can spend time with him without Sonia around.” Victor felt like a complete fool.

Leon rambled on and on about how Hop was anything but avoiding Victor: according to Leon, he always watched Victor’s matches on television, he owned every single rare league card (including the signed limited-time exclusives), and he never shut up about how much better Victor’s battling looked in person. At that point, Victor felt obligated to at least contact Hop and try to apologize for the misunderstanding. After a good five minutes of pestering, Victor got Hop’s number from Leon (in the past, they were always together, so they never needed each other’s number).

Time flew by quickly as Victor engrossed himself in his work. As soon as he finished everything, Victor would head to Rose of the Rondelands and call Hop. He blazed through challengers, squeezed through crowds, and finally reached his room in peace, where he would call Hop.

Or, where he was supposed to call Hop. First, Victor needed to practice his speech. It would go something like this: Hey, Hop! This is Victor. I got your number from Leon. I know we haven’t talked in a while and I want to apologize for making it seem like I was avoiding you. Whenever I visited Wedgehurst, I went to the lab to look for you, but you were never there, so I just left. I never thought you would be waiting for me at my house. Victor repeated the introduction he planned on saying at least ten times before finally pressing the “Call” button on his phone.

It only rang once before Hop’s voice rang out. “Hello? Victor?”

Victor froze up, all of the carefully practiced words shattering in his mind. It didn’t help that Hop’s voice was nearly the same as it had been the last time they spoke. Leon told Hop he was calling, and that absolutely messed up Victor’s apology somehow, and now Victor didn’t remember anything –

“Hello?"

“Hey, Hop. This is Victor,” he said, immediately regretting his words. Oh Arceus, he was a fool.

“I know.”

“I just wanted to apologize for-"

“It’s okay, mate. Lee explained everything to me, so don’t worry about it at all!”

Leon, always messing up his plans. Now, Victor had no clue what to talk about. He was supposed to apologize first and then try to catch up on things, and now, he was forgiven. Hop was much too kind, and Victor was absolutely clueless when it came to social interaction. He takes a deep breath. “So, uh, wanna talk? About your day, I mean?”

“Don’t even get me started on it,” Hop began, his muffled laugh only partially coming through the receiver. Victor was stunned. Nothing changed at all between them, even with five years since their last meeting. “I spilled a glass of water on Yamper today.”

Victor is especially thankful that Hop’s talkative enough for the both of them. On the other side of the phone, Victor could hear the humming of machinery and the bubbling of a fish tank filter. Sonia’s Yamper whined in the background, as if it knew they were talking about its misfortune. Victor stifled a laugh. “Oh, really?”

“He was so surprised, he shocked me and I dropped my cup on the ground! Luckily it was plastic, but still…” Victor imagined what Hop looked like right now. The boy would place his hand on his hip, tilting his head into his right hand in frustration. His left eye would close as he winced, and he’d even grit his teeth a bit. Hop’s voice, deeper than Victor remembered it, echoed through Victor’s phone, spreading throughout the room.  
Even though he was still alone, Victor’s loneliness faded away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this escalated and now there will be more chapters. when i started writing this fic in January i had no intention of posting it but god, the google doc was getting longer. did you know this was intended to be a one-shot where victor's just like "wow hop is hot" and it's a 5+1 but then i just spiraled and here we are now
> 
> bg gloria/marnie in this chapter! like 2 paragraphs worth lmao.

The harsh Galar sun shone into Victor’s eyes as he struggled to get out of bed. Last night, he listened to Hop for hours before either of them realized they had to sleep. Victor vaguely recalled passing out sometime after five in the morning, when Hop began snoring. What time was it now? He rubbed his eyes and stared at the clock. It read 7:32 AM.

He immediately jolted awake, feeling around the bedsheets for his phone. It was warm to the touch, and when he tried turning it on, there was no reaction. Rotom probably had to go into the box system in his bag after the phone lost its charge, which meant it couldn’t tell him to wake up. Victor, still in his pajamas, rushed to put on whatever semi-professional wear in his closet. After getting on his shoes, he called a taxi to Wyndon Stadium and made his way downstairs. He was supposed to be working thirty minutes ago, but he overslept. How would he explain this to the other league staff? _Oh, I was calling my best friend who I haven’t talked to for five years and I fell asleep with my phone still on._ He almost snorted. “ _As if they would believe that,_ ” he thought. Victor left a tip and ran into the stadium. Hopefully he hadn’t been too late, and no one needed him desperately.

Victor wasn’t expecting anyone to be standing right in front of the doors as he slammed into them and stumbled backwards, trying to regain his balance. The person’s hands were on his shoulders, steadying him. In his anxiety, Victor’s vision blurred and his surroundings screamed louder than before, forcing a shudder out of his exhausted body. His hands jolted to the man’s wrists, gripping them and pulling away.

“Woah there, kid,” the low voice rumbled, a familiar vibration that even seemed to flow through the man’s arms into Victor’s chest. After a few seconds of fear and confusion, Victor’s heart stilled, and he glanced up, towards the man’s face –

Ah, it was just Leon.

Leon’s eyes scanned Victor’s face, checking for signs of distress. Now relaxed, Victor gazed up into Leon’s eyes and took a step back. Leon’s hands slid off his shoulders, and with a slight smile, he stared back with a soul-shattering glee, as if he had something to say. Victor shifted uncomfortably and opened his mouth to apologize. Before he could say anything, however, Leon was already leaping ahead in the conversation.

“Victor! I was just heading out to look for you,” Leon exclaimed. Dread pooled in Victor’s stomach. Being late to his job was enough to make Victor upset, but keeping Leon waiting was ultimately worse than that. 

“Uh, sorry, I was calling Hop and I overslept…” Victor mumbled, feeling sheepish.

“Don’t worry about it! Actually, I thought about it, and it’s been a while since you’ve gone on vacation,” his friend responded. Victor’s mouth fell into a slight frown. This wasn’t relevant to their conversation at all, and he really needed to properly apologize. Much to Victor’s dismay, Leon’s mischievous grin only seemed to grow at the champion’s reaction. 

“I went on vacation a month ago. What’s this about?” Victor inquired, crossing his arms impatiently. “I need to clock in. I’m late.”

“You don’t have to clock in anymore!” Leon laughed, grasping Victor’s hands.

“Uh, what? Did they make new software for the Rotom Phone? I haven’t updated yet,” Victor sighed, half-heartedly shaking off Leon’s hand to reach for his phone. It was still connected to his portable charger, but he’d forgotten to turn the charger pack on. He pressed the button and waited for Leon’s response expectantly.

“No, you’re getting a full week of vacation!” Leon beamed. Another joke? Victor was too sleep-deprived to deal with anything right now.

“Very funny, Leon. I didn’t request time off,” Victor sighed, attempting to walk past the wall of muscle that made up Leon’s body.

“Seriously, I talked to the higher ups and they agreed to give you seven days off. Paid leave. It took a lot of convincing, but I did it. You’ve been working hard lately, going to all those meetings, and your recent “vacation” was spent fighting passersby in the Wild Area,” Leon hummed, checking his phone. “Plus, it gives you an excuse to visit Hop.”

Victor couldn’t disagree. Two months ago, he took a break from duties to visit his mother, but he’d got caught up in rare den-hunting and lost track of the days. In the end, he visited his mother for dinner, helped her do chores for an hour, and left with hardly even a conversation. To catch his train on time, he had to sprint from Postwick to the station, and his legs cramped for days afterward. 

“I’ll go,” Victor offered, attempting a small smile. Leon’s cheesy expression only seemed to glow more. Victor turned on his heel, already planning to catch a priority taxi home. He took a few steps toward the door of the stadium, but paused before exiting and turned to face Leon once more.

Leon’s smile clouded with confusion. “Something wrong?”

“Thanks,” he managed, “for organizing this.”

Although he didn’t see Leon’s expression as he dashed away, Victor was sure that Leon’s twinkling eyes crinkled at the corners, the part of his smile that entranced everyone so well. He stumbled into the nearest taxi and offered a hefty amount of cash for quick transportation. “Take me to Postwick,” he begged breathlessly. The driver didn’t say a word about Victor’s dazed disposition, and instead commanded her Corviknight to jet its way to Victor’s hometown, its metallic body slicing the air as it reached speeds reserved only for the highest-class customers.

Leaning back, Victor watched the Wyndon landscape shrink as the blue sky engulfed him.

* * *

“Ay, wake up. We’re here,” a gruff voice grumbled, bringing Victor to his senses. As his surroundings faded into existence once more, Victor rubbed his eyes with one hand and reached out to open the cab door with the other. With nothing there, however, Victor palmed at the open air as he tumbled out of the car. He let out a pained huff as he felt his arms hit the warm dirt road. He groaned as the driver fretted over him, asking if he was okay and apologizing profusely. If he did have any injuries, it would be his own fault, but with his arms taking the brunt of the fall, he seemed fine enough. After pushing himself away from the ground, he dusted off his clothes and gave the driver a quiet thank you and a large tip.

The Corviknight let out a mighty squawk and the driver left even faster than they arrived. Victor checked the time. 11:49, nearly lunch. He strolled toward his childhood home, which was only about twenty strides away, and knocked on the door before reaching for his keys. Before he could insert the keys, however, the door swung open to reveal a disheveled Gloria, lips red and bitten. Victor raised his eyebrows at his sister’s flustered state.

“Victor! I didn’t know you were coming,” Gloria quipped, not even trying to mask the sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Marnie and I were paying a visit to Mom this month, and you didn’t even let us know!”

“You didn’t let me know either,” he snorted, “I wouldn’t have come if I knew you’d be here.” 

Gloria rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. “Well, come in anyway. Mom’s making avocado sandwiches,” she sighed, stepping to the side. “Hurry up, before the Cutieflies come in and eat our food.”

Victor reluctantly entered. As he glanced around the room, he saw Marnie pull her jacket tighter around her shoulders. His former rival sat on the couch, with the hair at the nape of her neck tangled in knots. Gloria was probably playing with the girl’s hair as they committed romantic acts. He nearly gagged thinking about it, but quickly brushed the thought away as the scent of freshly baked bread hit him

Victor’s awareness shifted to his empty stomach. He hadn’t eaten since the night before, and without realizing it, he skipped breakfast too. Although he didn’t want to witness the lovey-dovey displays of affection between his sister and her girlfriend, Victor sincerely missed his mother’s meals, regardless of their simplicity. He recalled the aroma of caramelized sugar on the days she baked Pecha berry pie, and the gentle way a spicy Tamato berry curry rested in his stomach. His stomach turned, begging him to eat anything to relieve its pain.

“Mom, Victor’s home!” Gloria called, too lazy to do anything but fall onto Marnie in a too-obvious cuddle. Victor set his bag down, thinking about how to best avoid his sister. He hadn’t done laundry in a while, so he could easily throw clothes in now and take outfits from his own wardrobe if it was necessary. Staying at Hop’s place seemed like the best option. In Victor’s youth, the two friends held many sleepovers at Hop’s house. Knowing Hop’s mother, she would probably agree, but if she didn’t, Victor could just set up camp in the Wild Area and everything would be fine.

But first, he needed to eat.

* * *

After a filling meal and a lot of catching up with Gloria, Marnie, and his mother, Victor left his home in hopes that he would not deal with PDA any longer. It was intolerable seeing any couple cuddle and kiss, but watching his sister make out with Marnie felt like the ultimate sin. Especially when “kiss” sparked the idea of “Hop”, which sparked the idea of “Kiss Hop,” which was not very good for Victor to think about. He dragged his mind away from the intrusive thoughts and instead focused on asking Hop’s mom about staying over.

Hop’s house was closer than Victor remembered. He already wanted to run away, but he found himself knocking anyway, as if he wasn’t fully in control of his body. His mouth began moving against his will, and Victor’s voice spoke on its own, asking if he could sleep over and surprise Hop with a visit. Fortunately, Hop’s mother displayed boundless kindness, just like her children, and she took Victor by the hand and led him inside. 

Hop’s room smelled of bergamot and eucalyptus, only feeding into Victor’s exhaustion as he helped lay out a padded mattress on the floor. As soon as Hop’s mom left, he slid onto the plush bed. He only wanted to close his eyes for a few moments, and that was all. Victor’s rushing anxiety slipped away, and he let his mind drift. It was really, really warm. And his travels had lasted too long. Victor felt his limbs get heavier as he slowly began to think about nothing once more.

* * *

A loud thud and a surprised yelp startled Victor from his deep slumber. He almost winced in objection to the abrupt noise, but the shout sounded all too familiar to be real. If Victor woke up now, he would be back in Wyndon, not resting at Hop’s house in Postwick.

“Victor?” a small voice whispered.

He let a whine escape his throat. His eyes felt like they were taped shut, with tiny weights pulling the very tips of his eyelashes down. To make things worse, his head felt like it was stuffed with tissue paper and it was difficult to sit up properly. Regardless, he shifted to his right side and used his thumb and index finger to pull his eyelid up, opening his eyes. The light’s sudden introduction made him wince, and everything around him felt fuzzy and bright.

The desaturated orange walls were easy on Victor’s eyes in comparison to the stunning white coloration in Wyndon. Where was he? He blinked a few times, and in the corner of his eye, he saw a purple flash of color. Instinctively turning to whatever – or whoever – was there, Victor panicked and reached under his pillow for his Poké Ball, but he only felt the warm fleece sheet underneath him. But the figure’s edges finally sharpened, and Victor felt his eyes shoot straight to the person’s face.

It was Hop, and Victor hadn’t been dreaming. Hop stood there, mouth open and eyes wide, with his lab coat unbuttoned and hanging off of one shoulder. And god, he was beautiful. Hop’s once-golden eyes had faded into a natural deep brown with age, but within them, Victor could still recognize Hop’s innate glow, holding curiosity that persisted. Even with a shaken expression, Hop was stunning. Hop’s mouth opened and closed, searching for the right words, but Victor knew what to say.

“Surprise…?” Victor started, giving the best grin he could while his brain was still clouded with drowsiness.

And Hop’s face contorted into a pain-stricken frown. Victor felt his heart twist in pain. Had he done something wrong? Should he have contacted Hop first to ask? But Hop’s eyes filled with tears before he could say anything, and Victor instantly felt regret surge through him. The other boy stumbled toward him, extending his arms to hold him in a weak hug. Hop rested his chin on Victor’s shoulder as the tears streamed down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Victor said, in an attempt to comfort his friend. 

“No, it’s not that,” Hop choked out, squeezing Victor a bit tighter, “I just missed you so much. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and now you’re here.”

Victor fell apart easily in Hop’s arms. Their five-year separation was reduced to mere seconds in each other’s embrace. Nothing had changed about Victor, nothing had changed about Hop, and yet it felt like ages since they’d been able to hug like this. With Hop, everything felt timeless. The warmth of Hop’s body was so different from the heat that swelled whenever Victor battled, and it was enthralling.

“I missed you,” he murmured, “a lot.” 

There was a growing wetness on his shoulder. With the shaking sobs that spilled through Hop’s voice, Victor couldn’t help but let his vision blur too, tears welling up in his eyes. Everything was too much. Hop took in a breath right next to Victor’s neck, which tickled a bit, but Victor knew he was doing the same. Hop’s hands clenched in Victor’s red sweater, its fabric slightly wrinkled from Victor’s nap. The two held each other, sobbing, waiting for their tears to run out. Victor wasn’t sure how long they’d held each other when Hop pulled away, the skin under his eyes red and puffy. 

“Sorry I didn’t tell you I’d be coming,” Victor said, wiping his cheeks.

“Don’t apologize,” Hop sniffled, his voice nasally from a runny nose, “I’m happy.”

A bubbling feeling rose up in Victor’s chest and branched throughout his whole torso, his skin aching with the heat of a fire. The idea that Victor brought Hop joy sent his senses into overdrive, romantic thoughts tugging at his brain and fueling silly fantasies. At that moment, Victor was sure he felt affection for Hop – adoration that cascaded out of Victor’s soul. Victor pulled Hop into another hug, this time noticing the scent of Hop’s shampoo: citrusy and reminiscent of sour berries. 

Silence never felt more comfortable. Even with Hop’s jacket soaked by Victor’s tears, Hop didn’t complain about Victor’s show of emotion, instead mirroring his feelings exactly. The storm of emotions withered away, and with it, their crying halted. Hop offered Victor a tissue, and they both dried their faces before either spoke up.

“I’ll be here for a week,” Victor croaked, voice hoarse from his wailing. He grasped his canister in one hand and unscrewed the top, downing some of the room-temperature water. “We should do something together,” he offered.

Hop nodded in agreement. “Let’s go travelling.”

“Where would we go?” Victor sighed, stretching his legs out. His feet were already tingling with the loss of blood. How long had they cried for?

“Let’s do the Gym Challenge again,” Hop suggested. Victor wasn’t sure what redoing the Gym Challenge meant, but he was interested anyway. Battle? He would always be ready for that. Hop shrugged off his jacket and folded it neatly. “I mean, we could go around the same route.”

“You mean, go to each city in the order that we challenged the Gym Challenge in, and battle trainers there?” Victor pondered. 

“We could just sightsee,” Hop hummed, “We could go around without battling others. Just a fun vacation.”

Victor wasn’t going to argue with that. After flexing his feet a bit, he stood up, a little wobbly from dehydration. Hop jumped to his feet, recognizing the signs of Victor’s exhaustion, and quickly wraps Victor’s arm around his own shoulders, supporting Victor as he faltered. Victor’s eyes were lidded and his dark circles were noticeable, but Hop didn’t point them out. Instead, he helped his friend sit back down on the floor and opened the bottle Victor held in his hands. It was empty.

“I’ll fill it,” Hop whispered, stepping back toward the door. The loss of heat against Victor’s body sent his mind reeling, but he nodded in defeat. He listened to Hop’s footsteps as they descended the stairs, and after a few moments, the refrigerator whirrs and rumbles. Victor heard even more movement downstairs, but Hop’s loud entrance brings him face-to-face with a filled flask of ice-cold water and he couldn’t feel more distracted.

“Thanks,” Victor said. He attempted a meaningful smile – both apologetic and grateful – but his lips cracked as his mouth stretched, drawing blood to the surface. The brunette halted his brain and just chugged the water, his dry throat finally being relieved. 

“You need a break from all of this champion stuff,” Hop stated pointedly. Victor only paused for a second to take a deep breath before he brought the bottle back to his lips once more. Hop’s brown eyes bored into Victor’s skin. “Seriously, I’m taking you on vacation, whether you like it or not,” he remarked, this time more confidently. 

There was no more water in the bottle, so Victor resorted to chewing on ice. “Where are we going?” he inquired after the ice began to melt.

“Camping first,” Hop stuffed spare shirts into a bag, “Motostoke second. You’re staying here for the night, but tomorrow morning, we’ll leave Postwick.”

Victor was surprised by the assertion, but he screwed the cap back on his bottle and set it on the floor. “Okay.”

“And then,” he continued, “we’ll do more camping in the Wild Area, for like two more days. We’ll go to Circhester, and we can catch the train home on the last day.”

Victor counted the activities in his head. Three camping days, one in Motostoke, one in Circhester, one day for travelling… That’s six days worth of time with Hop, and with the day half-done, Hop’s estimations seemed about right. “Okay. Let’s do that.”

Hop’s gleaming smile grew triumphant. “I knew you’d agree, buddy. But you’re going to go back to sleep, because I don’t want you getting sick.”

Victor squeezed his eyes shut and laid down on the futon once more. When had Hop started calling him a “buddy” instead of “rival?” He couldn’t remember. Teenage Victor described Hop as things like “partner” and “friend” and “motivator,” but Victor now? Victor heard “love” in his head, and it gave him words like “everything” and phrases like “I can’t stop thinking about you.” It gave him visions where Hop’s hands ran through Victor’s hair and Victor was able to see Hop, able to hold Hop, whenever and wherever he wanted, and Hop was so soft… 

Victor fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now wait for the next chapter because i AM writing it at this very second


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one is long yall  
> oh btw past bede/hop dw nothing bad happens to them
> 
> tw // minor injury (no gore, mostly just "this hurts pretty badly")

It’s Victor that wakes up at dawn the next morning and shakes Hop from drowsiness. A warm jacket, a loose shirt, pants, and sneakers are enough for Victor’s appearance today – he doesn’t need to impress Hop or pretend he’s something he’s not.

Not that he doesn’t want to.

Hop’s half-awake and pulling out cold jam sandwiches from the fridge when Victor notices a yellow patch on Hop’s neck. Victor looks a little bit closer and notices that the back of his neck is exposed and there’s a tiny Joltik that hangs down from the ceiling, suspended a few fingertips away. Victor reaches out with his hands and cups the Joltik with care, making sure not to crush it, and his hands brush ever-so-slightly against his friend’s neck, making the other boy jump and squeak. Hop closes the fridge door and turns to question Victor, but the champion is already halfway out the door and nudging the Joltik off his hand and into the brush outside.

“What are you doing?” Hop whisper-shouts, doing his best to catch up to Victor. 

“There was a bug on your neck,” he explains, brushing his hands on his thighs. “I just grabbed it and put it into your garden.”

“You should’ve said something,” Hop grumbles, touching the back of his neck.

“Sorry.

“Don’t be.”

They walk to the train station and ride their way to the Wild Area, where Hop leads him into the berry grove ahead, searching for the perfect camping spot. Victor follows along, gripping onto Hop’s hand – which is a little sweaty but also very nice – and together they reach a clearing on a cliff that overlooks the lake. It’s kind of romantic, Victor thinks, but he shoots that thought down because it’s just him, he shouldn’t be thinking of things that won’t happen.

“Wow, this would be a perfect spot to take someone on a date,” Hop comments suddenly, nearly making Victor jump out of his skin. “Sorry, did I startle you?”

Victor nods but tells Hop not to apologize. At least he had the same thoughts about the view, Victor thinks, but he won’t ever say that out loud. His eyes scan the clearing, and Hop’s standing next to a half-set-up tent, big enough for the both of them. “Need help?”

Victor helps anyway when Hop tells him to relax and enjoy the view. It’s not hard work, he’s done it a million times before, he assures Hop, but the boy only relents when Victor won’t stop pouting. Working together, the tent is put together in a matter of minutes. Compared to everything else they’ve achieved, it’s small, but somehow Victor feels accomplished. Hop’s the same way when he flops down on the grass with a relaxed exhale, done working for the next hour or so. He looks nice like this – Hop’s dark hair and tanned skin stand out against the green grass, and the tiny flowers that surround him make Victor feel fonder. The sunlight that swims all around them and highlights Hop’s eyelashes does wonders for Victor’s headache, evaporating away his fatigue.

He can’t help but lay down at Hop’s side, closing his eyes and trying to still his uneasy heart. It’s hard to meditate when someone you really enjoy spending time with in a completely platonic way is laying next to you, Victor notes to himself. He lets his hand find Hop’s in his daydream, only to be brought back to earth when he realizes that he’s accidentally acted out his desires in real life as well.

Hop’s serene expression hasn’t changed, but he gently squeezes Victor’s hand to let him know he’s paying attention. Victor feels a rush of serotonin and then an avalanche of regret, but it eventually dissipates so much that he can’t even remember why he’d been nervous about holding Hop’s hand. It’s normal friend behavior, Victor thinks. That’s what friendship is about, the tiny voice in his head says unconvincingly.

Victor can’t help it if he lets his head roll to the side to stare at Hop’s resting face and the rising and falling of his chest, and no one’s here to blame him for staring anyway. It’s only surprising when Hop turns to him, too, deep bronze eyes meeting burnt sienna. He feels like a criminal realizing they’ve been caught on security tape, but Hop’s laughter sounds like a church choir, less taunting and more like bells in the wind. 

No one complains when Victor lays there, motionless if not for his breathing. No one chides him for being irresponsible or childish. No one judges him – not even the Pidove, not the Skwovet, not the Cherrim – and no one makes fun of him, laughs at him, for feeling dumbfounded whenever things are about Hop. He doesn’t feel pressured to stay – if he wanted to leave, Hop wouldn’t yell or become irate – but he wants to be here. He wants to hold Hop’s hand and nothing else, not in this moment –

And it’s ruined by a curious Electrike that’s made its way to Victor’s shoe, gnawing and biting, pricking him with electricity. He sits up abruptly, ready to call out his Pokemon, when the Electrike startles and backs off. Hop’s sitting up too, staring at their disruptor. Victor’s foot hurts, but it’s probably the electricity and not any flesh wounds. 

Hop, still staring at the Electrike, whips out a Quick Ball and throws it at the dog, who doesn’t even try to run. With a few shakes, it’s caught, and Hop deposits the new Pokemon into the box system and turns to focus his attention on Victor. Hop cuffs Victor’s right pant leg once and undoes his shoelaces. 

“I can do it myself, you know,” Victor huffs, “I’m not a baby.”

“Can you even feel your foot right now?” Hop crosses his arms, staring at Victor. It tingled where the Electrike bit, but it was slowly spreading –

“Ah,” Victor vocalizes, finally understanding. “It tried to paralyze my foot.” Hop’s clearly well-experienced with this, Victor realizes. He can’t help but wonder if it’s a professor thing or a Hop thing when Hop’s so prepared with a Paralyze Heal and a potion.

“It’ll bruise less,” he explains when Victor asks, “and it’ll look better superficially, at least.”

Sitting on a tree stump while Hop rushes around feels out of character for Victor. His foot is numb, but his Pokemon haven’t even had time to stretch out recently, Victor thinks. So he lets his party roam free in the clearing. They stretch, race, and interact with each other. He wants to pull out toys and play with them, but he didn’t want to stress his foot out… He sighed.

Luckily, Hop returns after only half an hour, arms full of berries. His Dubwool carries a basket of curry ingredients, helping Hop set up a cooking pot in the middle of the camp. At this point, Victor’s foot feels fine, and he tells a drenched-in-sweat Hop to take a break. Both of them know Victor is the better chef, but Hop is stubborn anyway, so Victor offers to “help” Hop cook instead. He doesn’t disagree, so Victor takes it as a “yes” and starts sorting good berry from bad.

They heap spicy and sweet berries into the pot, and Victor throws in spaghetti and ground beef. Hop lights the fire and the two fan the fire vigilantly until the aroma of seared Tanga Berries spreads through the area. Then, they set to stirring the pot quickly, fast enough to make sure nothing burns but not so fast that the curry splatters onto the ground. The two are tired out by the time they finish cooking, and there aren’t any leftovers thanks to Dubwool’s hollow leg.

It’s only after the large meal that Victor realizes that his sweat is drying and sticking his hair to his face, and he feels lumpy and soggy and all-around uncomfortable. He’s suddenly even happier they picked a place close to the river, and that the river is lined by trees. As he sets his sweat-drowned shirt on the river’s bank, he checks that he does, in fact, have a towel and a fresh outfit in his bag. Victor strips the rest of the clothes off of his body (ew), puts on some swim shorts (for decency’s sake) and sinks into the freezing water, feeling the clay at the river’s bottom (double ew). There are sacrifices one must make for camping in the Wild Area, and bathing in the river is just one of them. 

He’s only soaked in the river for a few minutes before there’s a loud splash, and against his better judgement, he feels his head swivel in the direction of the noise. Hop surfaces as the rippling water hits Victor’s chest, and oh no, the way that his bangs stick to his face is really… not good.

Victor closes his eyes and submerges his head underwater, turning blindly in an attempt to swim away. When he surfaces for air, he realizes he’s made a big mistake, because not swimming with goggles isn’t a very good idea, and he’s done a 360-degree rotation instead of his intended 180, and now he’s much, much closer to Hop – only a few arm lengths away.

“Woah, Vic,” Hop laughs, unbothered. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“It’s been like ten minutes tops,” Victor rolls his eyes, looking at anything other than Hop’s everything. “This is so unsanitary,” he complains instead, trying to focus on disgust rather than pure, unadulterated joy. Hop splashes him with river water and Victor splutters.

“It’s fine,” Hop insists. “No one ever swims in this part of the camp. They all prefer going to the Lake of Outrage.”

Hop’s probably right, but it doesn’t make Victor feel any better about it. And actually, Victor’s now face-to-face with a shirtless Hop, which is much worse than hypothetical cooties. He needed some way to get Hop away without his best friend witnessing his shameful crawl onto the river bank. He could claim he needs to pee, but that’s gross and also inappropriate, or he could fake-drown, which was also bad, or he could pretend to swallow water and be disgusted and leave. None of these sound appealing to him. Instead, Victor has a better idea: tease Hop until he freaks out and leaves. “What if we get necrotizing fasciitis,” he grins, giving Hop a devilish smile.

“You and your... uh, what’s necrotizing fasciitis?” Hop asks, pulling his wet bangs away from his face.

“Oh, you know. Just flesh-eating bacteria,” Victor says, nearly laughing at this point. Hop’s eyes look like they’re going to pop out of his head. 

“No. We are not getting necrotizing fasciitis. Not by swimming in some dumb river,” he shudders visibly, splashing his face.

“Bet. They’re everywhere in freshwater,” Victor insists.

“If that’s true, why’d you swim in here too?” Hop retorts, flicking his friend’s forehead. “If I get my flesh eaten, you’ll get it too since you’re in here with me.”

Hop’s right and Victor hates that Hop has more than one brain cell. It’s unfair for Victor when all he’s been doing lately is battling, and Hop’s been critically thinking ever since he became Sonia’s apprentice five years prior. He doesn’t say anything and instead sticks his tongue out at Hop. “Okay, Mr. Professor.”

Hop crosses his arms and glares at Victor before he makes a loud squeal and lurches backwards, sending water everywhere. “Something touched my dick!” 

Victor gives Hop a what-the-fuck look. “Are you… are you not wearing pants?”

“No?” Hop chuckles nervously, “Am I supposed to?”

“Yes,” Victor almost screeches, controlling his hormonal mind quite well for someone who’s had no romantic experience at all. He’s not going to think about it, and honestly? Hop skinny-dipping? Victor is less horrified and more worried about his own sanity. Hop’s face and ears flush a deep red.

“I don’t wear clothes when I shower, so-”

“No. Don’t say it.”

“Okay.”

Victor ends up giving Hop an extra towel to wrap around his waist when they leave together.

* * *

The only thing that separates Victor from the tent’s floor is his soft sleeping bag, and as he lays there, stunned, he’s not sure he can keep his mind off Hop when he’s sitting to Victor’s left. He watches Hop furrow his eyebrow in confusion as he begins taking everything out of his bag. Berries, clothes, paracord, and extra batteries are strewn throughout the room, and Hop picks up his bag and pours its contents onto his lap with a loud rumble. 

“What are you looking for?” Victor groans, sitting up to help Hop search.

“My sleeping bag,” Hop replies, voice laced with alarm. “I can’t find it.”

“Did you seriously forget it?” he mutters beneath his breath and moves around the items in the pile of Hop’s stuff.

“I think I did,” Hop admits, clearly exhausted. “I don’t know how I’m gonna sleep, but at least I’ve got Dubwool to keep me warm.”

Victor raises an eyebrow. “Letting Dubwool into this tent? What if its hooves tear the floor up?”

Hop shrugs. “Got any better ideas?”

Victor doesn’t. He can’t really think of anything other than –

“I got it!” Hop stands up suddenly, hitting his head on the roof of the tent and stretching its walls. He shovels his personal belongings back into the bag as he doesn’t explain a single thing. Victor falls back, letting his one pillow cushion his fall.

“What’s your idea?”

“We can share a sleeping bag,” Hop suggests, not even looking up from his work. Victor feels his brain short-circuit and combust, leaving his mouth hanging open with a dumbfounded look on his face. Hop turns to Victor with a quiet, “uh, if you’re okay with that, I mean?”

“Yeah, we can share,” Victor mumbles, feeling like the world has become too large for him to understand. “I don’t mind.”

Hop finishes gathering all his stuff and climbs in next to Victor. It’s a tight fit, but it’s not uncomfortable, with their backs pressed against each other. Hop reaches out toward the electric lantern and turns it off. Victor’s suddenly reminded of the day Hop had a nightmare when he was seven, when his mother woke him up in the middle of the night and told him Hop’s mother brought Hop to their house, because he wouldn’t stop crying and asking if Victor was leaving Postwick to go to Kalos. He’s unsure where seven-year-old Hop heard that, but Victor provides comfort and lets Hop sleep beside him. Now, 21-year-old Victor is resting next to a 21-year-old Hop in the same sleeping bag, which isn’t weird in the slightest, he repeats. It’s completely normal for two very close friends of the same gender to hold hands and sleep next to each other, and the warmth Victor feels alongside it is friendship (and not anything else).

Nah, it’s definitely love, he thinks, feeling himself slipping away.

* * *

Hop’s warmth is gone when Victor’s up the following morning, and the tent is too dark for him to see anything. He feels around for his phone. It’s four in the morning. Victor whimpers and closes his eyes. Why had he risen at such a horrid hour? There’s no definite reason, but he probably can imagine why: the loss of contact on Victor’s back could’ve easily shaken him awake. That’s probably it, because it’s not the loneliness Victor felt now that Hop wasn’t here.

Oh, who was he kidding.

Victor curls up in a ball, trying his best to preserve his warmth, and he hugs his legs to his chest, pretending it’s Hop. It’s not a person, but it’s something, and it’s sufficient enough to satisfy him for two more hours.

“I love you,” Victor says under his breath, to no one in particular. There’s no response, and he’s grateful there’s not because holy Miltank Victor is not prepared for a full on confession at 4 AM on any day of the week, let alone on a vacation day. Victor’s fading in and out of consciousness while waiting for daybreak when he decides that he should probably get up and at least do something.

After a quick trip to the port-a-potty and a lot of hand-washing, Victor finally feels awake. He makes his way back to the camp and sits in front of the fire pit, resting his head on his hands. Hop’s probably not back yet – the tent door is still zipped and buttoned like how Victor left it, and you can’t button the tent from the inside. It takes a few minutes, but he hears rustling in the grass behind him and voila, Hop’s there with a bundle of carrots in his hand, looking at Victor like he wasn’t expecting him to be awake.

“Good morning, Vic,” Hop greets him with a pat on the shoulder, which lingers for a bit before the other boy pulls his hand away. “I got us food.”

Victor nods, feeling the burning sensation that Hop’s touch leaves through his shirt. He wants to tell Hop, “hey, would it be okay if you hugged me more?” but he’s too afraid to ask. He wants to grasp his shoulder like a love-stricken fool, but Victor knows better than to display his feelings for anyone else to see. Instead, he settles for casual conversation. “You wanna cook?”

“Yeah, with you,” Hop says, already heaping the ingredients for their breakfast into a pot. And with that, Victor’s up and moving, lighting the fire, fanning away, taking turns stirring with Hop before it’s finally done and they can eat (and this time it wasn’t so sweaty). His Pokemon seem to enjoy the curry more than he does, but Victor still eats his whole portion before he stands and stretches. 

“Motostoke today, right?” Victor asks as he and Hop take down the tent. Hop feigns betrayal before laughing. 

“Where else?” he asks. Victor doesn’t know, but luckily, Hop doesn’t wait for a response and continues anyway. “We’ll go to the cafe and then we can stay a night in Budew Drop Inn.”

“Sounds good to me. Hurry up, I want to get the chocolate parfait.”

Hop just snickers and starts making his way toward the Motostoke gate.

* * *

After checking into their room and dropping off the heavier items in their bags, Victor drags Hop to the Battle Cafe. It’s Hop’s idea to eat there, but Victor’s raring to battle and release all of his stress in one go. Plus, getting a discount makes the fight more than worth it. When they arrive, the owner calls out his Slurpuff and Aromatisse, and the two of them go for their first Pokemon: Cinderace and Dubwool.

It’s not a difficult fight, honestly. With one kick from Cinderace, Slurpuff is down and Victor feels disappointed. Dubwool headbutts Aromatisse into the wall, and there’s no way Aromatisse would stand that if Slurpuff fell so quickly. It’s practically over in seconds, and Hop looks like he’s about to burst into laughter when he sees Victor’s pouting face.

"Congrats, you've won either a small sweet of your choice or 10% off your choice of dessert!" the voice behind the counter booms. Victor's not about to pass on dessert just because of a boring battle, however, and he finds himself shooting glances at the much more extravagant couple's parfait. It has layers of pudding, cream, syrup, and cereal, and it's topped with three scoops of ice cream and a maraschino Cheri berry. He can’t resist, but he also can’t eat all of it himself.

Hop taps Victor on the shoulder and points at the parfait of his dreams. “Look at that one, mate. It’s huge.”

“Let’s get it,” Victor says decidedly, and reaches for his wallet, but Hop’s already ordering it. He’s tugged to a table, where Hop sits across from him. He starts scrolling through social media and checking his messages – there’s a story from Raihan, and it’s a picture of a wine glass filled to the brim with what seems to be sparkling water and berry juice, judging from the cans in the background. The caption reads, “bone applin teeth!!” and Victor thinks it’s funny, but he doesn’t laugh out loud. Hop’s focused on his own screen until their parfait is delivered – there’s two spoons and the whipped cream is piled higher than Victor’s head. Rotom floats up and snaps a candid of the two, settling back onto the table as Victor pierces the first layer of ice cream. 

It’s a lot, even for two adult men with healthy appetites, and by the time they’re halfway done Victor’s stomach is already moderately full, maybe a five or six out of ten on Victor’s internal hunger scale, with ten being absolutely stuffed. Hop leans back in his chair with a pained wheeze, rubbing his temples. “Brainfreeze,” he says, strained.

“That’s the fifth time, Hop,” Victor says, getting another spoonful of sugary goodness. “You need to eat slower.”

“Says you,” Hop hisses, his deep eyes narrowed. “You eat so quickly I can’t keep up.”

“I’m hungry,” Victor whines, but Hop is right: inhaling your food is not healthy for anyone, not even the Galar champion. It doesn’t stop him from taking another bite, and another, and a little more, and he reaches for the berry toppings –

Hop whacks his spoon away with his own spoon and shoots Victor a look. “Mine,” Hop glowers, quickly eating the sweetened berry.

“Hey!” Victor puffs his cheeks out in frustration and steals a berry and vanilla ice cream from Hop’s side of the parfait. Hop looks so offended that Victor can’t control his cackle, and Hop starts laughing too. In Victor’s moment of weakness, however, Hop leans forward and takes the largest bite of chocolate ice cream he possibly can. Victor is livid.

“That’s what you get,” Hop glares, swallowing his prize before Victor demands he spit it out.

“Meanie,” Victor teases, using his spoon to send whipped cream flying toward Hop’s face. It lands on his nose and Hop goes cross-eyed staring at it. Victor’s wheezing so hard he can feel tears pricking his eyes when Hop rubs the cream away. 

“I’m paying for this, remember?” Hop reminds him in a sing-songy voice, “I can just eat it all myself.”

“Please, Hop, both of us know you couldn’t eat all of this yourself if you tried,” Victor jokes, waving his hand over the parfait. 

“Bet.”

And that’s how Hop’s left with multiple stomachaches and Victor starts hyperventilating because he laughed for too long and they’re kicked out of the cafe with a one-week ban at this location for disturbing the other customers. They don’t mind, though. Victor’s probably not coming back any time soon, and he knows Hop doesn’t come to Motostoke often either. They walk together, window shopping until it’s late afternoon, and the duo pass the stadium, its clean structure standing out amongst Motostoke’s rustic architecture.

“Let’s watch a match,” Victor exclaims, grasping Hop’s wrist and tugging him toward the glass doors. “I haven’t seen Kabu fight in forever.”

“Didn’t you battle him last month?” Hop wonders aloud, but he lets himself be dragged into the lobby.

“It’s different,” Victor asserts. He can feel Hop’s pulse quicken under his touch.

“Then let’s see it.”

Victor’s fingers are warm and weird where they meet Hop’s skin, but he doesn’t let go and keeps walking toward the spectator’s area. It’s been years since the two viewed a match together, and even longer since they’d sat in arena seats. Victor vaguely remembers Alola Stadium’s opening exhibition, where Leon battled thirteen years prior – it’s pristine and everything is brand-new: plastic seats, glimmering astroturf, sleek railings – and the two of them sat in the audience between their mothers, cheering at Leon’s every command. There’s not a single empty seat in sight, and with the stadium’s capacity of 50,000, the whole archipelago is shaken by the sound. Victor mulls over the vision in his mind. 

Hop’s wrist slips out of Victor’s hold for a second and he’s brought back to the present. His friend is already ascending the steps to the Motostoke Stadium’s seats, but he turns back and holds out his hand. “ _Ah,_ ” Victor thinks as Hop’s fingers interlace with his own, “ _this is too nice._ ”

He can feel the blood rushing through his ears like a waterfall, so loud he can almost hear it. The stadium’s bustling with workers, who pass out popcorn and fresh water in refillable cups for 300 yen each. The crowd’s chattering is deafening and the match hasn’t started yet, so there’s music blasting through speakers – is that _Fall Out Baltoy_? Victor’s pretty sure this song is older than he is as Hop makes his way to the seats at the top. There’s whispers from the people they pass as they step over people’s feet.

“Is that the champion?” one girl not-so-quietly whispers. “He looks like the champion.”

“Arceus, is that… Hop? He hasn’t had any media presence in years!” an old couple observes to the side.

“Leon’s color is so out of style,” one Beauty gossips as her eyes pass over Hop’s hair. “What is that boy thinking?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that’s his natural color, Jess,” another says. “Look at his roots.”

“Victor!” one boy screams. “It’s Victor!”

Hop speeds up, now paying less attention to the crowd around them. Victor wants to turn around and tell them all to shut up, to stop yelling, to stop saying anything on this one day that he wants to relax with his friend. It’s infuriating that people recognize them, but Victor knows it’s the price they pay for going out in public. At least only a few people will know that they’re here.

And when they’re finally at the top of the steps, Victor’s out of breath from Hop’s fast pace. They slide into the empty row, still holding hands, and Hop sits down quickly and lets go, pulling their fingers apart. Victor takes his time sitting down – he scrubs down the back of the seat with one of those antibacterial disposable wipes, and only then he sits down, leaning back with an exhausted exhale.

That’s when the screen ahead flickers to a shot of the stadium seats. “ _Oh no_ ,” Victor thinks. “ _They did not just notice us_.”

And they don’t. The camera zooms in on a man and woman sitting together near the front. They both look startled when they see their faces above everyone else. Hearts flash around the two as the crowd cheers. It’s a kiss cam, he realizes, and suddenly he lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Hop laughs when the pink-haired woman, without hesitation, kisses the blue-haired woman next to her. The man seems to not even know the lesbian couple, and he smooches the dude next to him instead.

“I’m stuck between wanting to say that this is cute and also feeling like this just goes to show that society doesn’t expect gay people,” Hop muses, watching as the camera focuses on two elderly people, who share a short peck on the lips. Victor can’t help but agree, but some part of him secretly hopes that the camera will focus on them so that Victor might be able to give Hop a kiss on the cheek. It won’t happen, he knows, but it would probably make confessing easier.

Eventually, the match starts: it’s Kabu against one of his Gym Trainers. It’s technically an official match, but it’s not broadcast on television unless there’s nothing else to run. Kabu leads with his Torkoal, whose entrance seems to make the sun a little harsher. The opposing trainer sends out a Cinderace, and there are whistles and applause as the familiar starter Pokemon hops onto the field with a confident cry.

Victor feels nostalgia wash over him when the trainer commands her Cinderace to use Pyro Ball. Torkoal isn't exactly known for its dodging prowess, and it takes the hit head-on. It doesn’t look fazed, however, and sets up a Stealth Rock while Cinderace sets its feet on fire once more. Cinderace goes for a kick imbued with flames, but Torkoal slams into it with a solid Body Press, nearly fainting it. While it’s down, Torkoal hits it again with an Earthquake, taking it out.

“Looks like Kabu’s gonna win this one,” Victor says as he evaluates the scene. Even with Kabu’s five Pokemon against the trainer’s six, he’s unfettered by fear or regret. The veteran trainer isn’t one to lose a battle defending his gym spot, after all. And he’s right. Even when Torkoal falls, Centiskorch is there to G-Max and clean up the remnants of the other trainer’s team.

“Looks like that’s a wrap!” the announcer bellows as the trainer’s Cursola faints. It’s not a surprise to Hop nor Victor, but they applaud and hoot anyway. Before the crowd starts to clear out, the two quickly cover their faces with their pamphlets and descend the stairs, weaving in and out of the crowd as they leave the stadium. 

That’s why it’s a shock when a reporter stops them to ask some questions. She nearly screams when she realizes it’s Hop and Victor, and the two are ready to make a run for it before their faces pop up on the screen – but it’s too late. There’s microphones in Victor’s face and flashing lights everywhere, he’s not sure what they’re asking and it’s loud and –

Hop yanks him away from the clustering reporters and sprints for it, with Victor stumbling along after him. It’s the guards at the door and their dumbfounded expressions when the two don’t even stop to greet them that makes Victor feel exhilarated. It’s the sight of the paparazzi clamoring after them and slamming into the glass walls, their faces squished like flattened fish that makes him feel free as they don’t stop moving, rushing toward Budew Drop Inn. Victor knows that since they’ve been spotted they can’t stay in Motostoke without being bothered. He’s never told Hop directly that he hates the cameras, but he guesses Hop probably knows anyway – it’s not too hard to decipher Victor’s faces of frustration and it’s probably why Hop swooped in and saved him.

But it is hard to see when they burst through the entrance of Budew Drop Inn and they flash their cards and run up the stairs toward their room because taking the elevator is too slow. Victor’s vision is clouded with tears from something – laughter or exhaustion, he can’t tell – and when they reach their room, the pair practically tumble in, falling on the floor and letting the door close behind them while cracking up like there’s nothing funnier in the world. 

Victor’s sticky, but in a good way because it’s a liberated kind of sticky and not a “ew, I just stirred a pot of curry for thirty minutes and now I’m gross” feeling. They lay there, catching their breaths (or they would be if they stopped laughing), and silly dizziness fills Victor’s head when he finally comes down from his adrenaline high. He’s tired out – ugh – and how are they going to leave this morning when news stations are lining up at the doors of Budew Drop Inn? 

“We’ll leave through the window,” Hop gasps for air when Victor asks, still breathless, “riding on Corviknight. He’ll take us to the Wild Area.” 

They have to check out, Victor reminds him, but Hop assures him that they’ll just do it digitally. There’s no need to do it manually when the internet exists, and for once, Victor is glad that the Budew Drop Inn has a stupid online page, no matter how glitchy it is. He crawls toward the bathroom (it’s more like he’s a Weedle wriggling his way there, but whatever) and turns on the shower while he prepares to clean every inch of his body.

* * *

When he’s sure every inch of his body is spotless, Victor finally is able to relax on a soft, warm bed with freshly-washed sheets. It’s a different type of rehabilitation from spending time outdoors, but it’s tranquilizing all the same. His hair is still soaked, but Victor is too lazy to dry it so it doesn’t matter. Hop comes over anyway and scolds him for not using the towel properly to wipe it dry, but he doesn’t care.

Or at least he doesn’t care until Hop makes him sit up, and with a towel, squeezes Victor’s hair free of water and massages his scalp. Hop’s careful not to pull too hard or remove any hair, and his hands are tender, leaving Victor feeling hazy and full of love. When he pulls away, Victor can’t help but feel hollow.

“I’m gonna shower,” Hop tells him, throwing the towel over Victor’s head. “I’ll be back in a few.”

When he hears the bathroom door click shut and the pitter-patter of water hitting tile, Victor sighs and clutches the towel, cuddling it to his chest. “ _Why am I like this?_ ” he contemplates, closing his eyes. “ _Why do I feel this way?_ ”

Guilt is an evil seed that takes root in his heart and spreads through his lungs. He knows he shouldn’t be pining after Hop like this. He knows that he shouldn’t feel this way about simple human interaction. Most men are straight, and what are the chances that Hop is in that five percent of gay men, and he also happens to like Victor at the same time? The odds are against him, and he knows it, but he still can’t control the blossoming feeling in his cheeks when Hop’s holding him too.

Oh, to be a man in love.

* * *

Under the aegean blue skin of the sky, when the sun is just about to peek over the horizon, Hop and Victor escape through the window and soar high above Motostoke. Victor’s holding onto Hop’s waist as the air zips around them, whizzing as Corviknight takes them to the Wild Area. Hop’s already checked out online, and Victor’s glad they left this way when he notices the horde of people at the inn’s front. No one notices the two flying overhead – the world above is glorious, Victor thinks. Maybe he should teach his Corviknight to do the same.

They land in a different area this time. There are less trees and less Pokemon, but Victor can see all the way from the daycare to Hammerlocke Hills, and it’s gorgeous. There’s a cave and a stream that flows into a waterfall, pouring down into the river below. It’s an even better place to camp, Victor realizes. 

“Where’d you find this?” he says, in awe. Hop recalls his Corviknight and sets his bag down.

“Bede showed it to me.”

“Bede?” Victor’s eyes grow wide. “I thought you hated each other?”

Hop shrugs. “I saw him on the train once, after he got kicked out of the Gym Challenge.”

“Mind explaining?”

“I just felt bad for him, that’s all.”

Victor knows that’s not the whole story. Hop and Bede hadn’t been on good terms five years ago, and he only remembers the look on Hop’s face when Bede called him a loser. It’s pain, and anger, and hatred, and not at all showing someone a beautiful camping ground that overlooks the Wild Area. But Bede had changed, too. After Opal retired, he’d told Victor about running away from his home, how his birth father disowned him for being trans, how he’d worked hard to be noticed by Rose – and his anger that Hop had it all: a family, a rival, and a championship letter just because he existed. Victor tries to chase after that conversation, tries to remember what Bede said after that… what was it?

“ _I should apologize to him,_ ” Bede had said, “ _Now that I know… you, it’s… it’s different, trust me._ ” At the time, he hadn’t thought much of it, but now, it made sense. They’d reconciled (well, they hadn’t had a friendship before, so not really, but whatever) and they talked. They knew each other, at least enough to share special places with each other.

“Were you two… you know… “ Friends? Part of Victor doesn’t even want to ask Hop, but he’s curious. It’s Hop and Bede, two important people in Victor’s life, and he was pretty sure they hated each other until now. 

“No! No, of course not, we weren’t - Vic, why would you think that? He’s not…” Hop’s clearly startled, and that wasn’t the reaction Victor was expecting at all. Hop visibly inhales before he continues. “Well, we were, for a bit.”

Hop seems overly nervous for someone who just admitted to a friendship with Bede. There’s nothing wrong with overcoming hatred, and Victor’s more confused about why they hadn’t said anything. He sits next to Hop, ready to ask questions. “I never expected…”

“Us to date? Yeah, me neither,” Hop sniffs, turning away. “It wasn’t… It only lasted a week. And it didn’t really work, in the end. So we’re just friends now.”

Victor feels like his eyes have just fallen out of his head. Dating? “What?”

“Is it that big of a deal to you?” Hop stands up, a little more than miffed. Victor’s tone was probably a bit too incredulous. His friend isn’t looking Victor in the eye at this point. “I like men, so what?”

“Wait, slow down,” Victor says, unable to process everything at once. What’s going on again? Hop is Bede’s friend. Hop once dated Bede. Hop also likes men. It’s a lot to take in. “You and Bede? I’m confused.”

“Yes,” Hop groans. “I just had a serious and continued lapse of judgement. Not that Bede’s bad or anything, just that dating him wasn’t for me.”

“You’re gay?” Victor asks.

“Yes,” Hop confirms warily. “Look, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to think I’m weird or anything and-”

“I don’t think you’re weird,” Victor cuts him off, and then adds, “I am too. Gay, I mean.”

“Oh,” Hop stares at him, mouth hanging open. Victor feels seen. It’s one weight off of his chest. It’s probably not the time to voice the other, though, so his feelings can stay quiet a little more.

“I could never hate you,” Victor says after a lull in the conversation. “You’re, um. My partner,” he forces out.

“You… you too,” Hop smiles in relief. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you earlier. I was just… I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

Victor is reacting – Hop’s gay? Hop likes men? Victor’s heart says it has a chance, but Victor’s rational voice tells it to please pipe down so he doesn’t say it out loud, because if he does now, what are the consequences? Victor takes a deep breath. “I’m glad you told me, Hop. And I’m glad I told you.”

“Seems I had nothing to worry about,” Hop chuckles, sitting down next to Victor. This time, he swears it’s closer than before, but he doesn’t say anything about it. 

“My sister is literally gay, Hop, and she’s been dating Marnie for who knows how long,” Victor retorts, this time playfully. 

“You don’t spend a lot of time with them, though,” Hop points out, and for the first time in years, Victor realizes that he hasn’t. He hardly spends time with his mother or Gloria – not since the Gym Challenge began. The realization sends sadness throughout his regret-stricken soul. He misses them, but it’s a yearning secondary to his feelings for Hop, and his acute awareness of his own blinding love isn’t exactly comforting.

“I didn’t spend a lot of time with you,” Victor whispers, “or with anyone.”

Fondness overtakes Hop’s features, and he reaches out and squeezes Victor’s hand. “I’m sorry,” Hop whispers back, “I didn’t know.”

Victor shakes his head. “I could’ve spent time with you,” he confesses. From there, his secrets come flooding out. “I… saw you in Circhester once. And sometimes in the Slumbering Weald. But I didn’t say anything. I just didn’t know what to say.”

Victor braces for expressions of hatred that don't come. Hop blinks in surprise, but his eyes are kind as he stares into Victor’s soul. “It’s okay,” Hop says. “I know what it’s like.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I know what it’s like to see someone, but you don’t want to distract them, so you don’t say anything,” Hop explains, trying his best to quell Victor’s loneliness. Victor can see Hop searching for the right words when he bites his lower lip in deep thought. “When I saw you on TV, I wanted to call you. I’ve had your number for a long time, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. So when you called me, I…” he trails off.

“You…” Victor echoes, encouraging Hop to continue.

“I was happy,” Hop finishes. “You reached out to me after all this time. I felt like I was the only one thinking about you.”

“That’s not true,” Victor nearly shouts, “That’s not true at all. I thought about you all the time.” Hop’s eyes reflect the rising sun behind him, glistening with what can only be delight. “You’re important to me.”

“You’re important to me too,” Hop responds, and Victor’s heart is set on fire. Those words are everything to him, and he can feel his lips turning, raising, an uncontrollable smile that he shows Hop and Hop alone. 

A chilly breeze swims through the area and Victor’s definitely blaming his blush on it. He notices it’s the same wind that whistles and erodes away the mountainside, and Hop does too, just as the sand in the area begins to kick up and spin. In a flash, Hop grabs their bags and drags him toward the cave, and as soon as they enter, the sand behind them rustles and wails.

“Yikes, I forgot how bad the Wild Area’s weather can be sometimes,” Hop mutters. “Well, until this storm subsides, we can pretend we’re cavemen.”

Victor laughs a bit, looking around the cavern. As far as he can tell, there’s no sign of any current inhabitants, and it’s a large, open space, at least for a hole in the side of a mountain. There’s a large boulder by the entrance, probably meant to be used as a door, and Hop pulls out a lantern, turning it on and lighting up the dark walls. It’s pretty deep, Victor realizes.

“Well, never thought I’d be staying here again,” Hop sighs, already setting up a fire pit. “At least I bought another sleeping bag in Motostoke.”

Victor’s a bit disappointed, but he looks for branches on the ground anyway. The sound of water isn’t surprising with the river running outside, and he turns his flashlight on, searching for its location. It’s a small spring that bubbles up in a separate “room,” with glowing mushrooms lining the upper parts of its walls. “Is this Bede’s place?” he wonders aloud. His voice bounces off the walls

“Actually, no,” Hop calls from behind him, making Victor jump. He turns around, and there’s no one there – Hop is at the cave’s entrance about twenty paces away. “He did put those there, though.”

“What is this, then?” Victor asks. He places his hand on the wall next to him and everything lights up. Victor recoils at the sudden eerie glow around him – it’s just Glimwood Tangle, but in a cave, he reminds himself, trying to calm down.

“I don’t know,” Hop admits. “I just got stuck here with Bede once, when we were battling. I still hated him back then. There was a snowstorm for a few hours, but the boulder wouldn’t move for days.”

Victor guesses that’s one way to stop fighting with someone. He’s just glad they survived. Done with exploring, Victor walks back toward Hop, a few sticks in hand. “It’s pretty unlucky that you’re stuck here again.”

“Not really,” he disagrees, and changes the subject. “Come help me push this boulder in front of the entrance. The sand will blow in too much.”

So he calls out a Machamp and tells Hop to step back so it can do her work. Machamp is excited to work her muscles and rolls the boulder with relative ease. Victor thanks her and she’s already hopping back into her ball, ready to rest again. He lays out his sleeping bag next to Hop’s, since he has nothing better to do, and when he’s done, he climbs into it and closes his eyes.

“Sleeping already?” Hop huffs. “But we just woke up.” 

“We’ll be here for a while. I might as well sleep as much as possible,” Victor sighs into his pillow. He hears Hop struggle with his own sleeping bag’s zipper. Then, with a loud crinkle, Hop slides into his sleeping bag. 

“This is so uncomfortable,” Hop groans, flopping around like a Wormadam trying to escape its cocoon. The noise is amplified tenfold because of the cave’s perfect acoustics, so there’s no way Victor can sleep. 

Victor turns on his Rotom Phone and stares at it before a message from Leon pops up on screen with a small vibration. He opens it.

_Leon: yo vic are you dating my baby brother now?_

_Victor: no_

_Leon: you bought the COUPLE’S PARFAIT_

_Victor: i was hungry_

_Leon: you held hands and then you had a FOOD FIGHT_

_Victor: the food fight came first_

_Leon: do you like him?_

_Victor: he doesnt like me_

_Leon: ok so that’s a yes, but you’re blind to emotions so how can you tell_

_Victor: u literally pined over raihan for 15 years i dont think ur allowed to say that_

He sets his phone down and it buzzes seven times consecutively. Hop wiggles over, moving his sleeping bag close to Victor’s.

“Who are you messaging?” Hop wonders, peering over Victor’s shoulder.

“Just Leon,” Victor replies, turning toward Hop. “I’m gonna ignore him now and talk to you.”

“Aw, I wanna message Lee,” Hop whines. “Can I see your phone?”

“No,” Victor states, almost too fast. “We’re having a conversation now.”

“Okay.” Hop unzips his own sleeping bag and stumbles out, standing over Victor while he’s still on the ground. Hop crouches down, quick hands opening Victor’s sleeping bag and snuggling in. They’re now face-to-face, their legs are touching, and he can see Hop’s individual eyelashes at this distance. Victor’s attention is drawn to his own chapped lips, which he wets almost instantly, a bad habit that he can’t break.

“You’re warm,” Victor comments. Hop’s skin burns against Victor’s cold legs.

“And you’re cold,” Hop grins. “Your legs feel like ice.”

“Sorry,” he says.

“It’s okay,” Hop laughs.

Victor closes his eyes. Maybe Hop’s okay, but to Victor, everything is absolutely not. Because from his point of view, Hop is handsome. Everything about him – his unlimited laughter, the way his hair waves in the wind, the way his cheeks light up when he smiles – everything about him is so, so beautiful. Victor can’t stand loving him this much, when every part of his body screams Hop’s name and his lungs ache like he’s run a marathon. 

Victor loves Hop so much he would sift through every grain of sand on all of Alola’s beaches combined. He would scale the Prism Tower with his bare hands and nothing more if it meant Hop would never cry again. He would scour the bottoms of every swamp in the Moor of Icirrus; he would live the rest of his life in the fabled Distortion World if it meant Hop would stay safe. Hop is Victor’s _love_ : it doesn’t matter if it’s first or last or anything in between; it doesn’t matter if Hop never loves him back or never feels the same, because Victor knows that in this moment, loving Hop is enough.

He’s okay with never saying those words if it means Hop will be happy. And Victor isn’t foolish enough to say that he’ll never have another love, but he’s not haunted by thoughts that say he’ll never love anyone as much as he loves Hop. It doesn’t matter if Victor never feels this strongly again in his life because one second is enough. If Victor can remember this feeling, it doesn’t matter if he never loves again or never sees Hop for the rest of his life.

“Victor?” 

A voice snaps him out of his spiraling thoughts and his existential crises. There’s no one else but Hop to call out to him, so he already knows who it is. Victor doesn’t need to open his eyes. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out.

“Are you crying?” Hop’s voice is tangled with worry as he brushes Victor’s tears away. 

“I didn’t even know I was,” Victor weeps. “I think I just got emotional all of a sudden.”

“You seemed so peaceful for a few minutes, and then the tears just started leaking out,” Hop says, his hand lingering on Victor’s cheek. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“I’m okay now,” Victor says assuredly. “Sorry for worrying you.”

“You need to stop that,” Hop says, pinching Victor’s ear. It doesn’t hurt at all.

“Stop what?” 

“Stop apologizing.”

Victor’s not sure how to react to that, but instinctively, all he can spit out is a quiet, “uh, sorry?” Hop covers Victor’s mouth with one hand and shushes him with the other.

“See? You said it again,” Hop says. “You’re overthinking things. You shouldn’t apologize for the things you can’t control, mate. It’s not right. And it’s not your fault, so don’t feel pressured to say sorry.”

Victor can’t respond with Hop’s hand clasped over his mouth, so he waits patiently for Hop to remove it. But he doesn’t.

“When you cry, Vic… It’s hard to watch,” he continues, “I care about you a lot, so naturally I’m worried. However, you shouldn’t apologize for making me worried, because it’s my decision. Well, kind of. You know what I mean. You didn’t cry a lot when you were younger, so seeing you cry now makes me wonder what brings you to tears. And, uh… talking is hard, and I get that, but if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Hop doesn’t say anything after that. He stares into Victor’s eyes with a passionate devotion for at least thirty seconds before he realizes Victor isn’t speaking because Hop’s covering his mouth. 

“Whoops,” he says, pulling his hand away. “Now this is the time when I should say sorry, so… I’m sorry.”

“Do I get to shush you now?” Victor laughs.

“If you want,” Hop says, with a glint in his eyes.

“Mmm… maybe not,” Victor decides, shifting onto his back. “I’m tired.”

“Okay. Get your beauty rest, then.”

“It’s not beauty rest, it’s sleep.”

“Sure, sure.” Hop turns off the lantern and everything becomes almost pitch black, save for the ghostly glow of the luminescent mushrooms. 

* * *

Hop’s still there when Victor wakes up a few hours later, and it’s decidedly amazing. Victor shakes Hop from sleep and he groans, whacking Victor in the forehead as he clambers out of their arrangement. Victor gets up too, stretching his limbs and letting the cold cave air envelop him. It’s a good way to start the day, and soon enough, Victor is raring to go.

“You think the sandstorm’s done?” Victor asks Hop after a quick brunch. “I wanna go explore.”

“Probably,” Hop says, “and if it’s not, it’ll definitely be tamer than it was earlier.”

Outside, sand is still flying, but it’s dying down by the minute. Victor and Hop gather all of their items and leave as soon as it settles, making their way into the area next to the Lake of Outrage. It’s pouring there, so there’s no campers to be seen, and Victor’s happy that Hop has an umbrella big enough for the both of them.

“Think we should camp here?” Victor ponders as thunder rumbles above them. “It’s raining pretty hard, but there’s no lightning yet.”

Hop shakes his head. “On the other side of the lake, there’s a huge space behind one of the bushes. I fixed it up a bit and made it into one of those bases you can find in Hoenn.”

“Really?” Victor wants to ask why he didn’t take him there earlier, but he’s too busy buzzing with excitement. “I wanna see it now.”

“Okay,” Hop agrees, and the two Rotom Bike their way across the lake and begin their trek up the hill.

That’s when Victor slips and falls in the mud, sliding all the way down to its base again. It’s gross and damp and his foot aches as he pushes himself up. His clothes are ruined but that’s not really a concern, it’s Hop’s worried face that makes Victor panic as he takes a step down the hill. Hop screams as he falls, rolling down the hill with an ungraceful splash of mud that sprays Victor in the face.

“Ew,” Victor says, wiping the goop off his cheek. “I’m soaked.”

“Me too,” Hop says, standing up. When Victor doesn’t make a move to get up, Hop offers him a hand, and tries to pull Victor up to no avail. 

“I think my foot’s stuck,” he says, trying to wiggle out of the mud. It’s raining too hard and he can’t see well with droplets that stream down his cheeks. There’s a dull pain when he moves it, but at least it’s not broken. 

“Lemme see.” Hop crouches down in front of him, holding the bent umbrella above them so that he can see better. Victor’s entire right leg is embedded in the mud, and as he tries to pull it out, the ground seems to weigh his foot down. 

“This sucks,” Victor sighs. “I wanna go back to sleep.”

“You can sleep when we get to the base, princess,” Hop jokes. He plunges his hand into the mud near Victor’s knee and cups it in his hand before throwing it to the side. More mud only slides in to replace it, and Victor wonders if he’s going to be stuck here for hours while Hop tries to dig him out. His wet clothes aren’t helpful in preserving body heat, and Victor shivers as he tries to haul his foot out. Nothing he does seems to work. Determined to get him out, Hop shovels the mud uselessly into a pile away from Victor’s leg. 

“It’s no good,” Victor says in exasperation. “How the heck did this even happen?”

Hop stares at Victor in horror. “Your lips are blue.”

“Are they?” Victor does his best attempt at a cheery laugh, but it’s hard to smile. “I’d call Cinderace out and have him warm me up, but he hates the rain.”

Hop’s eyes light up, and he reaches into his bag, pulling out a Poké Ball. Rillaboom lands with a thud next to the two. The Drummer Pokemon puts its hands right on the mud where Victor’s foot is and uses Giga Drain, absorbing all of the water. Hop pulls Victor’s calf out of the now-dry dirt. 

“My hero,” Victor giggles. He slowly stands up, his foot screaming in pain. Victor does his best to ignore it. “But really, thank you, Rillaboom.”

The monkey pokemon lowers its head with a gentle nod as it goes back into its ball. Hop helps Victor up the hill, this time careful not to slip on any mud. When they reach the top, there’s an entrance between the bushes that they both slip through. The base has wooden walls and the ceiling is glass, with leaves that cover the majority of the structure. It’s nice, but it’ll be even better when he dries off.

Victor realizes that the base is more complex than the ones in Hoenn when Hop leads him to a _functioning bathroom_. There’s a shower nozzle and a deep tub and Victor is grateful that this exists right now, but he wants to question it. He doesn’t, though, because he’s dripping with rainwater and if he stays cold much longer he’s pretty sure he’ll catch pneumonia.

Hop turns on the water and waits for it to heat up as Victor stands still, body quaking. When his friend looks back at him, he sighs and beckons Victor over.

“You’re going first,” Hop says, taking a step back as soon as Victor is near. 

“W-what are you t-talking about?” Victor’s teeth are chattering. It’s Hop’s place, and Hop is far dirtier than he is – both his arms are caked in mud and his hair is dark brown on one side.

“Just listen to yourself,” Hop insists. “You literally sound like someone dumped ice water on you and shoved you into Circhester Bay.”

“I don’t.”

“You’ll get sick.”

“You’ll get flesh-eating bacteria.”

“Then we’ll both get it,” Hop says through gritted teeth. He places his dirty hands on Victor’s cheeks, but Victor doesn’t feel them. “Arceus, you’re freezing. You need to get in.”

“You’re cold,” Victor lies because he can’t tell. “You need it more.”

“Sonia will end me if she hears the Champion is sick because he stayed out in the rain too long,” Hop hisses, pushing Victor’s cheeks together.

“Leon will end me if he hears his baby brother is sick,” Victor retorts through pursed lips.

“It’s my fault though,” Hop says beneath his breath. Lightning flashes overhead.

“It’s not your fault,” Victor whispers back. “Don’t take blame for the things you can’t control.”

There’s a mixed look in Hop’s eyes as he observes Victor. Hop checks the water temperature with his elbow. “Get in,” he says. “It’s warm.”

“I don’t want you to stand out here cold while I’m nice and warm,” Victor complains.

“I feel the same way.”

“Please,” Victor begs. “Please just go first. I’ll feel guilty if you don’t.”

“Then let’s go together,” Hop says suddenly. There’s a flash of something in Hop’s eyes that Victor can’t decipher. The other man shifts uncomfortably. “I won’t look, okay?”

“Okay,” Victor agrees meekly. “I won’t either.”

Neither of them make eye contact as they remove their drenched clothes and settle into the bath. Victor immerses himself almost entirely as the steam rises above them, spreading through the room. The knob squeaks as Hop turns off the water. The tub is full and it smells of Hop, and Victor’s not really sure what that means to him. 

There’s a silence that’s only disrupted by the occasional sound of one of them shifting in the water, and it’s definitely not comfortable. Victor’s not sure why Hop has a gigantic secret base or a bath that’s both deep and long, but he’s just glad that there’s more than enough space between them so that Victor doesn’t have to turn and be right next to Hop. The clear water grows murky around Victor’s mud-covered leg and he makes a face.

“We’re practically soaking in dirty water,” he mumbles, but his words are louder than intended, shattering the hushed atmosphere.

“I know,” Hop laughs. “Sorry.”

“I don’t mind,” Victor says quickly. “It’s nice.”

There’s the sound of sloshing as Hop moves around in the water. Victor remains motionless, only concentrating on breathing in and out. Hop gets out of the water and turns on the shower nozzle, which is for some reason, outside of the bathtub.

“What are you doing?” Victor wonders, still staring at the wall.

“Getting the dirt off before I go back in. I’ll use soap out here and stuff, and you can come out and use soap too. Honestly, I forgot that we’re supposed to shower before using the bath, but oh well,” Hop replies.

“You shower and then use the bath?” 

“Not normally. It’s apparently a thing in Hoenn, though. You’re supposed to shower first and use soap to get the dirt off, and then you enter the bath and soak. There’s separate areas for the shower and tub since you’re not supposed to get soap in the water,” Hop explains.

“I see,” Victor says, even though he doesn’t really see. He stands up through the pain in his foot and gets out of the bathtub, walking toward Hop’s voice. It’s too steamy to discern anything, really, so he’s not too worried about looking. “Maybe we should drain the tub, then.”

“Probably,” Hop says, and turns on the drain. “At least this water gets filtered through and is used to water the plants here.”

“Did you build this area?” Victor asks. “Not that I doubt you, it just seems like… a lot for one person to do on their own, that is.”

“No,” Hop laughs. “It was a passion project of mine. I wanted a lab that gave easier access to the Wild Area. That’s why I hired people from Hoenn to come here and build this.”

There’s a nudge at his hand and Hop presses the shower head into Victor’s palm. He can hear the last of the dirty tub water go down the drain in the background. Victor grasps the handle and sends water shooting through his hair first, feeling the grime fall to the floor. He grimaces and rinses off the rest of his body. “Thank you,” he says. _Thank you,_ his body says.

He’s handed a bottle of soap, so he lathers up and then sprays himself again, feeling much cleaner than before. He can hear Hop already climbing into the hot bath again, and Victor fumbles with the knobs before the shower turns off. He pushes the shower head back into place and then steps into the tub with his injured foot first, slowly descending into the hot water. He makes a pained noise.

“Victor?” Hop calls, but he’s unbelievably close, and his voice reverberates through Victor’s ear. He wants to run, but there’s no running in water, and Victor’s movements are painfully hindered. 

“Yeah?” he responds, cursing his voice for speaking when he didn’t want it to.

“Are you okay?”

Victor pauses. _Is_ he okay? Honestly, he can’t tell. But Hop is here, so maybe… 

“Victor?”

He takes a deep breath. “Hop?”

“What’s wrong?” his friend is moving toward him, oh god, “Are you crying?”

“No,” Victor says. Hop is next to him.

“I’m not looking,” Hop says. And Victor looks. Hop’s eyes are squeezed shut. 

“I believe you.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“My foot hurts, but other than that, I’m fine.” Victor shifts toward Hop this time, reaching out to touch his face. His cheeks burn. “You’re warm.”

“I know,” Hop smiles, eyes still closed. “Are you looking?”

“Sorry,” Victor says. Hop’s eyes flutter open. Victor feels embarrassment fester in his hands, but he doesn’t stop stealing the heat from Hop’s face with his icy fingers.

“I’m not mad,” Hop breathes. “I’m happy you’re okay.”

“Hop, I…” Victor doesn’t know what to say. “Thank you. Really.”

“For what?”

“Getting me out of the mud,” Victor says. This time, he’s the one that squishes Hop’s cheeks together. “ _He looks like a Stunfisk, but hotter,”_ Victor thinks. That’s a bad thought.

“Don’t mention it.” Hop’s hands fly to Victor’s, holding them in place. “We should get out before you get dizzy.”

“You’re probably right,” Victor agrees. “But I wanna stay here a little longer.”

“Okay,” Hop hums.

* * *

Victor sits on Hop’s couch as his friend wraps his foot in bandages again. When Hop’s done, he plops down next to Victor with a loud huff.

“Tired?” Victor teases, nudging his friend. “Who’s the princess now?”

“I literally just wrapped your foot.” Hop nudges Victor back harder, yawning. “You’re like, the daintiest Champion in all of Galarian history.”

“No way,” Victor says. “I’m not dainty, just clumsy.”

Hop gives him a look, but drops it. He’s too tired to do anything but sleep, and so is Victor, with the world around them feeling a bit too big for comfort. It’s hardly evening, but this day has been less vacation and more “hey, let’s get ourselves caught up in shenanigans and accidentally get injured.” Victor isn’t normally ready to head in this early, but the couch beneath him is plush and velvety, and it’s just so lovely that he could pass out… 

But his stomach growls loudly. Hop gives Victor this smile that has him star-stricken, has the organs in his abdomen tumultuous and flipping like pancakes on a hot grill. His friend saunters toward a small kitchen area and procures a pan from the cabinet below the sink. When Hop’s cooking, Victor’s reminded of spicy and sour chocolate chip oatmeal, forced down Victor’s throat by Hop’s overbearing brother. The only thing that Leon knows how to cook is a solid curry, and even that’s not exactly a gourmet dish in the ex-champion’s hands. Hop, however, learned from his brother’s complete inability in the kitchen: he knows exactly what not to do when selecting ingredients, how long a stew should boil, that an oatmeal with _chocolate chips_ shouldn’t be _sour_ of all things, and that _chocolate seizes up in water, are you kidding me Leon_.

The aroma of mixed herbs and dried berries is a blessing amongst many other things in Hop’s secret base. It stirs up feelings of hunger and home and _Hop_ ; it breathes down Victor’s neck and embeds itself into his clothes as he’s waiting. Victor’s emotions rise and fall with each added berry, newfound depth to the scent of Hop’s home cooking. It’s different from curry making in every way – there’s no exhaustive movements and it’s much harder to set food on fire. Victor wanders over to Hop as he turns off the stove and sets the pot to the side.

“What is that?” Victor inquires, peeking over Hop’s shoulder.

“Vegetable barley soup,” Hop replies. Normally Victor would be against consuming something so utterly _Galarian_ in nature, but he’s starving and his throat is parched. It doesn’t look unappetizing, either, which says a lot for being a dish with _barley_. Victor hardly even knows what that is, only that it’s among other, more familiar grains like rice and wheat.

“Are you done?” Victor asks, stealing Hop’s spoon and taking a small portion. He inhales deeply. The smell is inherently lovely – because everything Hop makes is amazing to Victor. He blows softly to cool the broth down and tastes it. It’s hot, but Victor can withstand the heat, and it’s spicy and salty, but only subtly, and it’s actually good. He swallows. 

“What do you think?” Hop asks, his eyes observing Victor’s face intently. “Do you like it?”

“I do like it,” Victor says, after a moment of consideration. “It’s so you.”

“What does that mean?” he grumbles, snatching back the spoon and tasting it for himself. It’s instantaneous regret that spills across Hop’s features – the soup is still piping hot and he hadn’t stopped to check. He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, puffing awkwardly. “Ish _burns_ ,” he complains.

Victor is too stunned for words. Was that – an indirect kiss? He’s unsure if it counts, but Hop’s basically swallowed a combination of Victor’s saliva and broth. It makes him feel _something_ , for sure, because he can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. Before Hop can say anything, he pivots on his good heel, opening drawers in a search for another spoon. 

“What are you doing?” Hop says amusedly. Victor turns back around and Hop’s already holding two bowls and the utensils to go along with it. He pouts at Hop’s delighted demeanor and graciously accepts the bowl that’s placed in his hands along with the used spoon. 

“I was looking for a spoon because you took mine,” Victor replies, embarrassed. Hop chuckles as he uses a ladle to serve Victor, careful not to dribble any liquid onto Victor’s hands. When the soup is just shy of breaching the bowl’s rim, Hop simply picks up the pot and pours the rest into his own container. He’d made just enough for the two of them, Victor realizes, as Hop makes his way back to the couch without spilling a single drop. Victor follows slowly behind him, each step cautious. 

When they’ve both devoured their meals, Victor is full, warm, and finally ready to tuck in. It’s dark out now – Victor can see the stars gleam from the gaps in the glass ceiling where the leaves don’t cover. Hop takes both of their dishes to the sink, and he can hear the sound of scrubbing and water running for a few minutes before Hop returns. 

“Ready to go to sleep?” Hop asks, offering Victor his hand. Their palms fit nicely together. Hop heaves Victor up off the couch and throws its cushions to the side before pulling something inside the seat. There’s the sound of metal squeaking and a click.

“A… couch bed?” Victor says, in awe.

“Sorry,” Hop smiles nervously, “there’s only one.”

Heat pools in Victor’s chest. It shouldn’t worry him, they’d literally slept in the same sleeping bag twice in the past few days, but something about sharing a bed with Hop makes his hands tremble and his brain turn to mush. He mumbles something about being fine with sharing, but he can’t stop the stupid smile that creeps across his face against his permission when he climbs onto the bed, curling up next to Hop. 

Hop turns off the lighting system and everything goes dark. Victor can hear Hop’s gentle breathing turn slow as his friend nods off. Victor closes his eyes. His heart pounds in his chest and it feels like it’s getting louder. He’s worried it’ll wake Hop, but it doesn’t – nothing happens.

“Hop?” Victor whispers. “Are you awake?”

No response.

Victor’s voice falters. “I love you,” he says before he can stop it. “I love you so much.”

Hop’s fast asleep.

* * *

The whistle of a kettle brings Victor back to awareness. His whole body fills with a dull, tingling sensation as he wakes. Every muscle is tight and as he moves, he can feel his cells contract in indignation, causing sharp pain to rocket through him. “ _This sucks,_ ” he thinks, as his foot pulses with the strum of his heartbeat. There’s clattering in the background and Victor’s eyes are stuck at the corners from whatever gunk has collected while he sleeps. 

After internal turmoil, Victor finally rolls out of the bed and stumbles to the bathroom. He shoots ice-cold water onto his skin, startling a squeak out of him. Water runs down his face and neck, seeping into his shirt’s collar. Victor is awake, and being awake sucks. Hop calls his name from the other room. He stumbles out and stares.

Hop’s wearing a blush-colored turtleneck and dark black pants, but that’s not all. A lab coat is draped over his shoulders and he adjusts these thick-rimmed glasses that make him look so mature, so handsome, so professional – _no_. Victor shakes his head rapidly, the remaining water droplets flying off his face.

“Good morning,” Victor yawns, cracking his knuckles. 

“Good morning,” Hop smiles, “I made tea.”

“What kind?” Victor asks, strolling over toward his extremely good-looking friend that he isn’t pining for at all.

“Bergamot,” Hop replies. It smells like bergamot, too – like Hop’s room, like Hop’s hair – no. Victor is not going to mentally torment himself while he’s physically overwhelmed, and he can fantasize about Hop whenever he wants, but it’s best to keep those ideas for later when his friend isn’t _literally_ right in front of him.

“Nice,” Victor says. Hop’s already poured two cups and set them on the coffee table – tea table? Whatever it is, it’s a hard surface that is made to put items on, and Victor is not going to overthink a single thing today because he’s tired. He reaches for one of the cups and takes a long, drawn out sip, quelling some of the pain caused by pinched nerves.

“I thought you’d like it too,” Hop says, sitting down on some papers with a crinkle. Now that Victor looks, there’s papers everywhere – notes on how Alcremie can’t exist in high temperatures, studies on invasive Greedent populations, how the Purrloin introduction has done more harm than good to the dwindling Morpeko population, the life cycle of a Pincurchin… There’s a lot of words that he doesn’t understand.

“Are these all Sonia’s?” Victor says, scrambling to read the scientific journals.

“Most of them,” Hop replies. “I’ve been studying a lot lately. Some of the papers are from foreign professors, but the majority are hers.”

Amongst the vast number of articles, there’s a manila folder that catches his eye. “ _Old_ _Notes,_ ” it’s labeled, and that’s it, there’s nothing more to it. It’s penned in Hop’s handwriting – slanted slightly, tall and skinny, written in black permanent marker. He reaches for it, and Hop makes no move to stop him, staring blankly ahead. Victor opens it. The first page is nearly illegible, with crowded words and arrows and diagrams that don’t make any sense to Victor. He catches a few sentences, though. One section reads, “Trubbish is not sentient garbage!!” It’s underlined and bolded and circled, and underneath in much tinier letters, there’s a small “it only evolved to look like that, unfortunately.”

The next few pages are pretty much the same: all scribbles and Torchic scratch, nothing really of interest to Victor. But on the sixth page there’s a huge drawing that spans the whole page. It’s a Pokemon that’s foreign, but familiar, with luxurious white feathers and a blue breast, standing strong and majestic. None of the Galar region’s birds look anything like it. Underneath, in messy handwriting, it’s labeled –

“Swanna,” Victor says out loud. Hop turns toward him in surprise. Victor flips the pages. Ducklett. Swellow. Taillow. Altaria. Swablu. There’s more. Sharpedo. Carvanha. Alomomola. They’re all incredibly detailed and none of them are found naturally on Galar’s mainland. Hop looks flustered.

“Oh, those are mine,” he says, trying to take it back. 

“They’re beautiful,” Victor whispers, tracing the outlines of the diagrams. Hop gently pulls the folder out of Victor’s grasp.

“Thanks.”

“I mean, where did you even-?” Victor babbles. “Like, these are so realistic, but you’ve never seen them before, right?”

Hop looks nervous, panicked, and Victor doesn’t know why.

“Hop?”

“Victor,” he’s shaking now, “I was thinking of studying under Birch.”

“Professor Birch?” Victor repeats, confused. “Is he in Galar or something?”

“No,” Hop says under his breath. 

“You want to go to Hoenn?” Victor realizes, and for the first time it all makes sense. Hop’s spent a lot of money on a secret base modeled after the ones in Hoenn, he’s always been on good terms with Kabu, the sketches are mostly of Hoennian Pokemon, and Hop has a craving for adventure since the day Victor has known him.

“Only for a little,” Hop lies. Victor sees through it all because he knows Hop too well, knows that Hop’s a passionate person because it’s one of the many reasons why he loves Hop so much.

“Then you should go,” Victor says, and he puts down the rest of the bergamot tea because he’s afraid of spilling it with his trembling hands.

“I don’t know if I really want to yet,” Hop admits. “There’s other things I want to take care of.”

“Like what?”

“Like someone who can’t stop getting injured,” Hop snickers. His face falls into something a little more serious. “But in reality, I guess… there’s a person.”

“A person?” Victor questions. He finds himself wondering who could capture Hop’s heart, because goddamn if Hop loves someone then Victor will support him through every step of the way there. Even if it hurts. Victor already feels his chest twinge. If Hop likes someone, it’s probably not Victor, who has only waltzed back into Hop’s life after five years, who Victor’s pretty sure he’s liked for literally his entire life but only just realized recently.

“Yeah,” Hop says quietly. “But I don’t know yet.”

“Don’t know what yet?” Victor prods. Hop shrugs and chugs his tea. There’s a distinct space between them that Victor loathes. 

“I’m gonna do some work,” Hop says. “Tomorrow, we can head to Circhester.”

“Okay.”

* * *

They end up staying at Hop’s tiny base for two days instead of going to Circhester. Hop cooks and cleans and pampers Victor in between calls from Sonia and a never-ending stack of paperwork. Victor brings him tea and sits across from him, admiring how his crush looks when he’s working hard. Hop apologizes profusely for not bringing him to Circhester, but Victor doesn’t mind. He’d honestly rather stay with Hop.

There’s no use in saying that out loud, however, when the two are already boarding the train to Postwick so Hop can get home and Victor can gather the clothes he’d left at his mother’s house. It’s quiet while the two sit down like they’ve done a million times before, but it’s hardly a good quiet in Victor’s eyes. His phone buzzes when the train starts moving.

_Leon: so ur saying he wasn’t jealous when you said that?_

_Victor: ?_

_Leon: oops that was meant for raihan! sorry kid!_

Victor’s not really sure what that message was about, and he’s not sure if he wants to know, with Raihan’s weird-ass adventures and escapades. Leon’s not really the jealous type, though – and neither is Hop. It’s not that Hop _doesn’t_ feel jealousy, it’s more like _he doesn’t choose to express anything outwardly in fear of making Victor feel like he’s ruined everything for Hop even though that’s exactly what he’s done by becoming Champion and making Hop have a midlife existential crisis twenty years too early._ Victor exhales and tries not to think about it.

Jealousy isn’t a new feeling to Victor, either. It’s hard not to feel envious when he thinks of Hop and Bede’s one-week-long relationship, or the mysterious person Hop likes, or the way Hop smiles at people when they help him. But Victor’s mind shimmers when he reminds himself that all he wants is for Hop to be happy. He can’t be selfish, he’s already been selfish enough – and the title that goes before his name on every headline proves it.

“ _But you’re selfish enough to love him_ ,” the tiny voice in his head says. No, Victor wants to scream. Love is the opposite of selfishness – if there’s anything he’s learned from Gloria’s relationship it’s that love is selflessness. It’s not thinking less of yourself or putting yourself down for others but it’s thinking of your needs last, thinking of others first, raising others up with praise and support and being there to hold them on their worst days. 

Victor’s come first place once and it’s been the worst thing in his life. If anything, Hop deserves that title – Hop’s sunny, shining, and warm, always doing his best. Victor isn’t intelligent or sweet or anything like Hop – he’s just _Victor_ , foolish and fragile and stumbling his way through life. The train goes through a tunnel. They’re almost home.

“I don’t want to go back,” Victor says. “I wish I could stay with you longer.”

Hop is startled by his admission. His eyes flutter open, his lips move apart and form a small “oh,” and Victor is petrified by the sheer desire that wells up within him, telling him to lean forward and kiss Hop on the lips. But Victor doesn’t know how to kiss, doesn’t know how to express romantic love – so he waits for Hop’s response instead. The purple-haired boy purses his lips and gazes into Victor’s eyes. “Me too. I want to spend more time with you.”

“Then let’s,” Victor says, only half-joking. “Let’s run away.”

“I wish,” Hop laughs. “What would we even do? Hypothetically, I mean.”

“Well, we could escape to Hoenn,” Victor starts. He lets his eyes fall shut and his mind wander. “You could take up an apprenticeship under Professor Birch like you’ve been thinking about.”

“And what would you do?” Hop asks him. Victor pauses, pondering for a moment.

“I would sleep,” Victor smiles, imagination running wild, “a lot. And I’d also cook meals for you while you work. I’d probably do some battling too.”

“Oh?” Hop looks at him in amusement. “You’d make meals for me, mate?”

“I’d do anything for you,” Victor responds instinctively. Whoops. That wasn’t supposed to come out. Hop’s phone clatters onto the table.

“Don’t say that, Vic,” Hop huffs.

“But I mean it,” Victor says. “I really would. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Hop insists, crossing his arms. “What kind of person would I be if I made the Champion of all people pay me back, huh?”

“I wouldn’t be the Champion in Hoenn,” Victor points out. “And you’re my friend.”

“Friend, huh?” Hop mutters. He looks frustrated, and he props his elbows up on the table, resting his head on his fists. “You don’t owe me _because_ you’re my friend.”

“That’s exactly why I owe you,” Victor says, poking Hop’s cheek. “Because you do so much for me and I haven’t done anything in return yet.”

“I don’t need it,” Hop pouts.

“But I want to,” Victor says. “I want to be able to help you.”

“Your friendship is enough.”

Now Victor’s the one pouting. He flicks Hop in the forehead and then rests his hand in Hop’s hair. It’s soft. “You’re allowed to be selfish, you know.”

“Huh?” Hop looks at him, baffled. 

“If there’s anything you want to talk to me about, or something you need, I can help,” Victor continues. The train car jolts suddenly, rocking them both lightly. “I feel like I haven’t done enough, you know? So if you need any help, you’re really doing me a favor by asking.”

“What does that have to do with being selfish?” Hop wonders. 

“You can ask me anything and not feel guilty about it,” he explains. “Like, I don’t know.”

Hop grasps Victor’s wrist. Victor hadn’t realized how long he’d been running his hand through Hop’s hair, but Hop doesn’t pull him away. Instead, he holds Victor’s hand in place. “Doesn’t that apply to you, too?”

“But you literally dug me out of a mud bath, so I think you have the right to ask a bit more of me if you need help,” Victor sighs. Hop probably conditions daily because his hair is so silky that it hurts.

“Fair point,” Hop says. “But I helped you because I wanted to, not because I had to.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t have helped me if you didn’t want to?” Victor glares, tugging gently at Hop’s hair.

“There’s not a single situation where I wouldn’t want to help you, mate,” Hop responds, tightening his grip. “I’ll always help you.”

“Then we’re the same,” Victor says. The train station is closing in on them. “Looks like we’re almost home.”

Hop doesn’t look out the window – his eyes don’t move from Victor’s face. “I wish this trip lasted longer.”

“Me too.”

The two make their way off the train eventually, and in front of Wedgehurst Station, a small crowd gathers to welcome them back home.

* * *

Victor’s back to square one: he’s sitting on the ground in Hop’s room. Alone. Hop’s pacing up and down the hall that connects the brothers’ two bedrooms and the stairs that lead to the house’s entrance. While Hop wears down the floorboards outside, Victor can’t help but recognize something is wrong. He doesn’t know what to say or do, though, and any rational thoughts have been erased by Victor’s unrequited love.

Victor is ready to leave. His bags are packed, his clothes are washed, and everything has been accounted for. But he doesn’t want to leave, not with the way Hop’s eyes linger on him and the unforgettable scent of bergamot that stains all of his clothes. Nothing is helpful – not Hop’s insistence that he return, not the feelings that burn up when he thinks of sleeping without Hop by his side. It’s inundating.

Bede messages him about Hop’s conditioner, asking him what brand he uses. Victor doesn’t know – he’s never asked. When he’s about to, Nessa sends him a screenshot of a tabloid gossiping about their appearance during Kabu’s match. One by one, the Gym Leaders message him, all talking about Hop and flooding Victor’s mind with reminders of his _extremely_ secret crush. Raihan’s probably leaked it to their group chat – not that they hadn’t known already.

“Hop,” Victor calls his name, because they’re running out of time.

“Yeah?” his friend replies, popping his head into the room.

“Do you wanna talk?”

Hop’s already at his side, laying down next to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Me,” Victor says, tired of everything. “I don’t know what to do.”

“About what?”

“I want to help you.”

“Victor, what do you mean?”

Victor makes the decision to leave his feelings behind for Hop’s happiness. “I want to help you get together with the person you like.”

“Mate, I…” Hop trails off. “No, I can’t let you.”

“Why?” Victor asks, sitting up. “Why not?”

Victor’s phone buzzes with a familiar alarm. It’s time to leave, but he doesn’t want to. Hop sighs. “I can’t tell you. It’s time to go.”

“Hop, you can tell me anything, I won’t judge you,” Victor says, pleading. He doesn’t know why his voice keeps speaking when he’s undermining his own chances with Hop – but he doesn’t stop. “We’re friends, _best friends_ , I can help you–”

“Stop,” Hop snaps. Victor recoils. His friend’s voice is freezing. “You have to leave, Vic.”

“Hop, I–”

“Please.” Hop turns to the wall. “Please go.”

“Okay,” Victor whispers, heart twisting in turmoil, and he goes.

* * *

The walk back to Wedgehurst Station is lonely without Hop by his side. It’s the first time he’s been truly by himself in seven full days, and it’s exactly as expected: pretty crappy. The seat across from him is empty the whole ride through – probably because Victor can’t stop sobbing into his jacket, ignoring the alerts on his Rotom Phone as it vibrates in his pocket. He’s halfway through the ride when he checks whoever is messaging him and it’s not Hop, it’s the Gym Leaders, and Victor feels _extremely_ unwanted in his sorrow. He should probably apologize – apologize for pressing Hop too hard about his crush, apologize for hurting him, apologize for whatever he did to make Hop’s voice sound so stony, so frozen. He types out a few messages.

 _Victor:_ _hey hop, I’m really sorry about earlier today_

_Victor: I just want you to be happy but I shouldn’t have pushed you. can we talk?_

That should be enough for now. The messages are read instantly, but Victor waits twenty minutes before he presses the call button. It rings, and rings, and rings again, and it rings even more until it goes to voicemail, Hop’s automated message playing through the speaker – “ _Hey! Thanks for calling me! I’m unavailable right now so if you could please leave a message after the tone, that would be great!”_

Victor hangs up. Nothing about this situation is great. He’s worried that Hop’s angry, that Hop’s upset, and he knows he probably shouldn’t have asked about Hop’s feelings because Victor is literally the worst with his own feelings. He puts his head down for the rest of the ride.

When the train pulls into Wyndon Station, Victor is a mess. At least, he’s even more of a mess than usual, because his sleeve is soaked and his eyes are red and his throat hurts a lot. He checks his reflection in his phone and he’s hardly recognizable – not champion-like at all. Victor stumbles out of the train car and no one looks at him. He’s grateful for his average height and his ability to blend in as he makes his way to Rose of the Rondelands and books his usual room, crashing on the bed that’s cold and too big for one person.

He showers after laying there for two hours doing nothing, and he can’t bring himself to call room service when he looks like he’s had the worst breakup of his life. Hop and Victor have never fought like this before, and he doesn’t even know if this classifies as a fight in their books because it’s less anger and more tears. He turns off all the lights at 8:02PM and stares at the popcorn ceiling.

Victor can’t sleep no matter how hard he tries. He unplugs the clock because its ticking is making too much noise. He tries sleeping upside down, tries cuddling a pillow, tries crying it out and then drinking a shitload of water before lying down again, but nothing works. It’s two in the morning and Victor is still as much of a mess as he was twelve hours ago. At least Victor has the self-preservation to not text Hop while crytyping like he has nothing else worth living for. At least Victor can do the absolute minimum.

He stares at his phone and opens his messages with Hop. There’s no response. Victor prays. He prays to Arceus, even though he’s never been religious; he’s never believed in worshipping Pokemon or anything like that at all. Victor prays that at the very least, if Arceus is watching, to please have mercy on his sad, lonely soul and let him stay friends with Hop. And miraculously, like the omnipotent creature is truly watching, Hop starts typing. 

“Holy shit,” Victor whispers. It’s the first few words he’s spoken in hours. He waits for Hop to send the message, but instead, he just keeps typing. And then it stops. Victor panics. And then it starts again. And stops, and starts, and Victor nearly has a heart attack every single time he sees the little bubble with dots appear and disappear. And then it stops again. Victor waits for a message that doesn’t come.

His eyes blur, his lungs ache, the world seems like it’s going to collapse –

His phone buzzes. Victor takes a deep breath.

_Hop: are you awake?_

_Victor: yea_

_Hop: whats ur room number_

_Victor: ?_

_Hop: at rondelands_

_Victor: oh. I’m 1001, but why?_

Victor waits for a response, but there isn’t any for an entire minute, and then some more, and he’s still waiting, any time now–

There’s a knock on the balcony doors. Victor panics and scrambles to turn on the lights, which blind him as they illuminate the room. He turns them back off because he is _not_ dealing with this intruder looking at his tear-stained face and cracking up. He stumbles toward the nightstand, pulling out the heaviest thing in sight – which is a really large Bible, because if Arceus was listening then he’ll be listening now, and –

“Victor?” a familiar, muffled voice calls. Victor drops the Bible on his bad foot and yelps in pain, hobbling his way to the doors and pulling away the curtains so he can see if this is just a really cruel joke or not.

It’s not. Hop stares back at him, jacket rustled by wind as Corviknight flaps its wings, clearly tired. Victor wishes he’d at least been able to wash his face, but it’s too late now. “I – why are you here? I mean, you’re very welcome here, please come inside,” he rambles, opening the doors.

Hop reaches for his hand and grasps it as he slides into Victor’s room. It’s still dark, even with the moonlight’s hazy glow. Victor is elated, because this can’t be a dream, not when his foot is swelling in pain and Hop’s fingers feel so real.

“I’m sorry,” Hop whispers. “When I saw your messages, I came here as fast as I could without responding, and I forgot that the air doesn’t have any signal.”

“Just hug me, please,” Victor chokes out, half-sobbing at this point. Hop reaches around him in the most world-breaking embrace that he’s experienced – there’s want and need and love and tears and everything just flows out of Victor like a broken dam.

“Are you okay?” Hop asks. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you to leave so harshly. There’s no excuse for that.”

Victor just squeezes Hop tighter, like nothing else matters. Because it’s the truth that Victor can’t voice aloud, because there’s no words to express everything, because Hop turns his brain into jelly and his muscles into mush. And he cries, because there’s nothing left for him to do but bawl into Hop’s shoulder as they hold each other.

“Victor, please, say something,” Hop whispers, trying to hold Victor up as best as he can. “I know it’s hard, and I’m sorry, I really am.”

“It’s not that,” Victor mumbles.

“Then what is it?” Hop asks. 

“I can’t,” Victor says, clinging onto Hop like he’s the only thing left in Victor’s life.

“You can,” Hop says. “You’re heavy.”

Victor pulls away reluctantly and does his best to make his way to the hotel bed. Hop sits next to Victor and holds him with such care that Victor thinks it might have the opposite effect and he’ll shatter. His breathing is labored and his tears won’t stop, but Hop doesn’t judge him.

“Victor, you can tell me anything,” Hop says. “Because we’re _friends_.”

“And that’s what’s wrong,” Victor wheezes between gasps of air. Hop stiffens, but doesn’t let go. “I don’t want to be friends.”

Hop’s on the verge of tears from the sound of his voice. “If that’s how you feel, I–”

“No,” Victor interrupts. “I’m not – done. I don’t mean it like that.”

“Then what–”

“I love you,” Victor says, and there’s no regret. There’s a pause. Hop’s not moving, or speaking, or doing anything at all. This is worse than Hop hitting him and fleeing or laughing like it’s a joke. This is worse than Hop’s fake laughter and too-gentle rejection. It’s none of these things.

He winces and pulls away – or at least, he tries. Hop’s arms are wrapped around him so tight, holding him steady, keeping him still, and Victor’s half-functioning brain is not foolish enough to misunderstand what that means. 

“Hop,” he whispers. “I love you, Hop.”

There’s a sob and a powerful squeeze that makes Victor’s ribs crack. It hurts, but everything hurts, and for each and every time Victor has told himself he’s not allowed to be selfish he curses himself because with love, you _have_ to be selfish. _A love without give and take is no love at all_ , a young Gloria reminds him, as she paints her face with the Team Yell logo. Victor finally feels like he understands her words when Hop’s crying too, a product of Victor’s own cruel desire.

“You mean it?” Hop sobs, but he can feel him smile into Victor’s shoulder. “Please don’t tell me you’re joking.”

“How can I not? You’re just…” Victor feels something come undone inside of him, and oh no, everything won’t stop trickling out. “You’re so amazing, Hop. And that’s not all, you’re smart, funny, kind, you take care of me, you look bloody good in glasses, and when I saw you shirtless I nearly died and came back to life. I love you so much and I just want you to be _happy_ , please. You don’t have to say you love me. I don’t need your love to be happy – I mean that would be nice, and I really like you and all, but you’re just – I don’t expect it from you, so don’t feel pressured to do anything for me.”

“Victor,” Hop’s wailing now, “stop doubting yourself. I love you, mate. You and no one else. When you said you’d come to Hoenn with me, I felt – I felt like I could tell you right then and there, but it wouldn’t come out, I couldn’t burden you with my feelings–”

“If I hadn’t been selfish then none of this would be happening,” Victor cries. “You’re the _best_. Now stop crying and kiss me–”

And Hop’s lips mash into Victor’s very nicely, in an awkward, salty snog. It’s imperfect, just like both of them, and Victor can’t help but wish he’d worn chapstick when he feels Hop’s soft lips against his. But it’s okay, he tells himself, because they’ll have many more tries to get it right and Victor can wear chapstick in the future.

In the future with Hop. Victor feels like Corviknight has rocketed straight up into space with both of them on his back. He needs oxygen but he doesn’t care because Hop is such a good kisser, _bloody Arceus_ , and everything feels so amazing he can’t shed any more tears. Hop pulls away first, panting, and Victor feels so warm when Hop looks at him like – like whatever _that face_ is.

“I love you,” Hop grins.

“I love you too,” Victor says back.

And Hop looks beautiful from every angle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for tuning in! i'm nashijang on twitter if u wanna talk about trainshipping

**Author's Note:**

> idk if this is rated properly, so pls lmk if you think this should be rated differently! i promise i'm not intimidating !! and please tell me what you thought in the comments or @ nashijang on Twitter


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